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POUGL71S  W1GG1N 


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STATE  NORMAL  SCHOOL 


LOS  ANGELES, 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

BY 

KATE  DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 
ENGLAND 


Tuppenny  tra-veh 


PENEIPPE'S 
^  EMGLI3H  £% 

EXPEBJENCES 


B05TON  HNP  /VEW  YOR.K. 

jHIFFLI 
A\PCCCCI 


COPYRIGHT,    1893,    BY    KATE   DOUGLAS  WIGGIN 

COPYRIGHT,    1900,    BY    KATB    DOUGLAS    RIGGS 

COPYRIGHT,    1900,    BY   HOUGHTON,    MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


TS 
^>"3D 

T  5^ 


TO   MY  BOSTON  FRIEND 

SALEMINA 

NO  ANGLOMANIAC,  BUT 
A   TRUE  BRITON 


tit. 


PART  FIRST.     IN  TOWN 


I.    THE  WEEKLY   BILL 1 

II.    THE  POWDERED  FOOTMAN   SMILES 9 

III.  EGGS  A   LA   COQUE 16 

IV.  THE   ENGLISH   SENSE   OF   HUMOR 23 

V.     A  HYDE   PARK   SUNDAY 28 

VI.     THE   ENGLISH   PARK    LOVER 35 

VII.     A   DUCAL   TEA   PARTY 39 

VIII.    TUPPENNY  TRAVELS   IN  LONDON 47 

IX.     A   TABLE    OF  KINDRED   AND   AFFINITY 56 

X.     APROPOS   OF   ADVERTISEMENTS 62 

XI.     THE   BALL   ON   THE   OPPOSITE   SIDE 69 

XII.     PATRICIA  MAKES  HER  DEBUT 84 

XIII.  A   PENELOPE   SECRET 94 

XIV.  LOVE  AND  LAVENDER 100 

[Til] 


CONTENTS 

PART  SECOND.    IN  THE  COUNTRY 

XV.  PENELOPE  DREAMS 108 

XVI.  THE   DECAY   OF   ROMANCE      .      .       ; 117 

XVII.  SHORT   STOPS   AND   LONG   BILLS 122 

XVIII.  I  MEET   MRS.    BOBBY 128 

XIX.  THE   HEART   OF   THE  ARTIST 133 

XX.  A   CANTICLE   TO  JANE 137 

XXI.  "I   REMEMBER,    I   REMEMBER" 141 

XXII.  COMFORT   COTTAGE 147 

XXIII.  TEA   SERVED  HERE -   155 

XXIV.  AN   UNLICENSED   VICTUALER 162 

XXV.  ET  EGO   IN  ARCADIA   VIXIT  170 


[viiij 


Tuppenny  Travels  (page  48) Frontispiece 

Heading  to  Contents vii 

Heading  to  List  of  Illustrations ix 

The  weekly  bill 1 

There  is  something  awe-inspiring  to  me  about  an  English  butler  9 

Unapproachable  haughtiness  of  demeanor 11 

He  dilutes  the  customary  scorn  of  his  glance 13 

Like  animate  objects  with  vital  organs 14 

Asked  her  plump  whether  the  religion  of  the  American  Indian 

was  or  was  not  a  pure  theism 16 

Without  apparent  effort 18 

My  neighbor,  a  portly  member  of  Parliament,  looked  amazed  21 

Chapter  Heading 23 

Airing  his  special  grievance 28 

A  ragged,  sodden,  hopeless  wretch 31 

Very  well  worth  looking  at 33 

Stormy  weather  does  not  vex  the  calm  of  the  Park  Lover  .     .  35 

/  began  to  make  psychological  investigations 37 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

Dead-and-gone  Cimicifugases 39 

Tea  with  the  duke 43 

Nothing  in  the  least  extraordinary  about  him 45 

The  driver  tells  you  everything  of  interest  along  the  way   .     .     47 

Took  him  under  the  window  to  listen 56 

All  the  silver-sellers  had  called  at  the  same  hour 62 

Seized  the  old  gentleman  and  danced  him  breathlessly      .     .     69 

A  small  army  of  charwomen 77 

The  florist's  assistant  is  getting  slated  like  one  o'clock  ...     82 

Patricia  and  Terence  stayed  by  the  piano 84 

The  personage  .  .  .  stooped  gently  and  kissed  her  forehead    .     94 

They  were  all  mystery 100 

Sweet  bloomin'  lavender 103 

What  next  ? 108 

The  last  point  astounded  him 113 

Chapter  Heading 117 

The  amazement  of  the  barons 119 

Mrs.  Hobbs  would  come  .  .  .  and  ask  me  if  I  would  like  to  buy 

a  fowl 122 

/  wheedled  her  into  giving  me  her  own  sitting-room  ....  124 

Mrs.  Bobby  brings  me  something  to  eat 128 

An  'obby  of  her  'usbant's 131 

Sadly  lacking  in  concentration 133 

When  she  fetches  the  donkey  to  the  door 137 

She  bears  to  the  left  like  a  whirlwind 141 

She  walks  all  over  my  feet 144 

Chapter  Heading 147 

Mrs.  Bobby  settled  herself  on  the  porch  with  a  pan  of  peas    .  151 

Her  eldest  son  is  in  a  blacksmith  shop 154 

Stopping  to  gape  at  it 157 

In  full  chase  of  our  cow 159 

Showed  them  to  the  tables 162 

"  Bond  Street  prices,  eh?" 165 

[*] 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

A  la  barmaid 167 

A  cup  of  lukewarm  tea 169 

Chapter  Heading 170 

"  Won't  you  come  down  ?" 173 


[xi] 


PENELPPE'S  ENGLISH 
EXPERIENCES 

PMR.T  FIRST    :      IN   TOWN 
I 


The  -weekly  bill 


SMITH'S  HOTEL, 
10  Dovermarle  Street. 


"23  O  1 

HERE  we  are  in  London  again,  —  Francesca,  Salemina, 

and  I.  Salemina  is  a  philanthropist  of  the  Boston  phi- 
lanthropists, limited.  I  am  an  artist.  Francesea  is  — 
It  is  very  difficult  to  label  Francesca.  She  is,  at  her 
present  stage  of  development,  just  a  nice  girl ;  that  is 
about  all :  the  sense  of  humanity  has  n't  dawned  upon 
her  yet ;  she  is  even  unaware  that  personal  responsibil- 
[1] 


PENELOPE  S    EXPERIENCES 

ity  for  the  universe  has  come  into  vogue,  and  so  she  is 
happy. 

Francesca  is  short  of  twenty  years  old,  Salemina  short 
of  forty,  I  short  of  thirty.  Francesca  is  in  love,  Sale- 
mina never  has  been  in  love,  I  never  shall  be  in  love. 
Francesca  is  rich,  Salemina  is  well-to-do,  I  am  poor. 
There  we  are  in  a  nutshell. 

We  are  not  only  in  London  again,  but  we  are  again  in 
Smith's  private  hotel ;  one  of  those  deliciously  comfort- 
able and  ensnaring  hostelries  in  Mayfair  which  one 
enters  as  a  solvent  human  being,  and  which  one  leaves 
as  a  bankrupt,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  number  of 
ciphers  on  one's  letter  of  credit ;  since  the  greater  one's 
apparent  supply  of  wealth,  the  greater  the  demand  made 
upon  it.  I  never  stop  long  in  London  without  deter- 
mining to  give  up  my  art  for  a  private  hotel.  There 
must  be  millions  in  it,  but  I  fear  I  lack  some  of  the 
essential  qualifications  for  success.  I  never  could  have 
the  heart,  for  example,  to  charge  a  struggling  young 
genius  eight  shillings  a  week  for  two  candles,  and  then 
eight  shillings  the  next  week  for  the  same  two  candles, 
which  the  struggling  young  genius,  by  dint  of  vigorous 
economy,  had  managed  to  preserve  to  a  decent  height. 
No,  I  could  never  do  it,  not  even  if  I  were  certain  that 
she  would  squander  the  sixteen  shillings  in  Bond  Street 
fripperies  instead  of  laying  them  up  against  the  rainy 
day. 

[2] 


THE    WEEKLY    BILL 

It  is  Salemina  who  always  unsnarls  the  weekly  bill. 
Francesca  spends  an  evening  or  two  with  it,  first  of  all, 
because,  since  she  is  so  young,  we  think  it  good  mental 
training  for  her,  and  not  that  she  ever  accomplishes  any 
results  worth  mentioning.  She  begins  by  making  three 
columns,  headed  respectively  F.,  S.,  and  P.  These  ini- 
tials stand  for  Francesca,  Salemina,  and  Penelope,  but 
they  resemble  the  signs  for  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence 
so  perilously  that  they  introduce  an  added  distraction. 

She  then  places  in  each  column  the  items  in  which 
we  are  all  equal,  such  as  rooms,  attendance,  fires,  and 
lights.  Then  come  the  extras,  which  are  different  for 
each  person :  more  ale  for  one,  more  hot  baths  for  an- 
other ;  more  carriages  for  one,  more  lemon  squashes  for 
another.  Francesca's  column  is  principally  filled  with 
carriages  and  lemon  squashes.  You  would  fancy  her 
whole  time  was  spent  in  driving  and  drinking,  if  you 
judged  her  merely  by  this  weekly  statement  at  the  hotel. 

When  she  has  reached  the  point  of  dividing  the  whole 
bill  into  three  parts,  so  that  each  person  may  know 
what  is  her  share,  she  adds  the  three  together,  expect- 
ing, not  unnaturally,  to  get  the  total  amount  of  the  bill. 
Not  at  all.  She  never  comes  within  thirty  shillings  of 
the  desired  amount,  and  she  is  often  three  or  four  gui- 
neas to  the  good  or  to  the  bad.  One  of  her  difficulties 
lies  in  her  inability  to  remember  that  in  English  money 
it  makes  a  difference  where  you  place  a  figure,  whether 
[3] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

in  the  pound,  shilling,  or  pence  column.  Having  been 
educated  on  the  theory  that  a  six  is  a  six  the  world 
over,  she  charged  me  with  sixty  shillings'  worth  of  Apol- 
linaris  in  one  week.  I  pounced  on  the  error,  and  found 
that  she  had  jotted  down  each  pint  in  the  shilling  in- 
stead of  in  the  pence  column. 

After  Francesca  has  broken  ground  on  the  bill  in  this 
way,  Salemina,  on  the  next  leisure  evening,  draws  a 
large  armchair  under  the  lamp  and  puts  on  her  eye- 
glasses. We  perch  on  either  arm,  and,  after  identifying 
our  own  extras,  we  summon  the  butler  to  identify  his. 
There  are  a  good  many  that  belong  to  him  or  to  the 
landlady ;  of  that  fact  we  are  always  convinced  before 
he  proves  to  the  contrary.  We  can  never  see  (until  he 
makes  us  see)  why  the  breakfasts  on  Jhe  8th  should 
be  four  shillings  each  because  we  had  strawberries,  if 
on  the  8th  we  find  strawberries  charged  in  the  lunch- 
eon column  and  also  in  the  column  of  desserts  and  ices. 
And  then  there  are  the  peripatetic  lemon  squashes. 
Dawson  calls  them  "  still "  lemon  squashes  because  they 
are  made  with  water,  not  with  soda  or  seltzer  or  vichy, 
but  they  are  particularly  badly  named.  "Still"  for- 
sooth !  when  one  of  them  will  leap  from  place  to  place, 
appearing  now  in  the  column  of  mineral  waters  and 
now  in  the  spirits,  now  in  the  suppers,  and  again  in  the 
sundries.  We  might  as  well  drink  Chablis  or  Pommery 
by  the  time  one  of  these  still  squashes  has  ceased  wan- 
[4] 


THE    WEEKLY    BILL 

dering,  and  charging  itself  at  each  station.  The  force 
of  Dawson's  intellect  is  such  that  he  makes  all  this 
moral  turbidity  as  clear  as  crystal  while  he  remains  in 
evidence.  His  bodily  presence  has  a  kind  of  illuminat- 
ing power,  and  all  the  errors  that  we  fancy  we  have 
found,  he  traces  to  their  original  source,  which  is  al- 
ways in  our  suspicious  and  inexperienced  minds.  As 
he  leaves  the  room  he  points  out  some  proof  of  unex- 
ampled magnanimity  on  the  part  of  the  hotel ;  as,  for 
instance,  the  fact  that  the  management  has  not  charged 
a  penny  for  sending  up  Miss  Monroe's  breakfast  trays. 
Francesca  impulsively  presses  two  shillings  into  his 
honest  hand  and  remembers  afterward  that  only  one 
breakfast  was  served  in  our  bedrooms  during  that  par- 
ticular week,  and  that  it  was  mine,  not  hers. 

The  Paid  Out  column  is  another  source  of  great  anx- 
iety. Francesca  is  a  person  who  is  always  buying 
things  unexpectedly  and  sending  them  home  C.  0.  D. ; 
always  taking  a  cab  and  having  it  paid  at  the  house ; 
always  sending  telegrams  and  messages  by  hansom,  and 
notes  by  the  Boots. 

I  should  think,  were  England  on  the  brink  of  a*  war, 
that  the  Prime  Minister  might  expect  in  his  office 
something  of  the  same  hubbub,  uproar,  and  excitement 
that  Francesca  manages  to  evolve  in  this  private  hotel. 
Naturally  she  cannot  remember  her  expenditures,  or 
extravagances,  or  complications  of  movement  for  a  period 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

of  seven  days ;  and  when  she  attacks  the  Paid  Out  col- 
umn she  exclaims  in  a  frenzy,  "  Just  look  at  this  !  On 
the  llth  they  say  they  paid  out  three  shillings  in  tele- 
grams, and  I  was  at  Maidenhead  ! "  Then  because  we 
love  her  and  cannot  bear  to  see  her  charming  forehead 
wrinkled,  we  approach  from  our  respective  corners,  and 
the  conversation  is  something  like  this  :  — 

Salemina.  "You  were  not  at  Maidenhead  on  the 
llth,  Francesca,  it  was  the  12th." 

Francesco,.  "  Oh !  so  it  was  ;  but  I  sent  no  telegrams 
on  the  llth." 

Penelope.  "  Was  n't  that  the  day  you  wired  Mr. 
Drayton  that  you  could  n't  go  to  the  Zoo  ?  " 

Francesca.  "  Oh,  yes,  so  I  did  :  and  to  Mr.  Godolphin 
that  I  could,  I  remember  now  ;  but  that 's  only  two." 

Salemina.  "How  about  the  hairdresser  whom  you' 
stopped  coming  from  Kensington  ?  " 

Francesca.  "Yes,  she's  the  third,  that's  all  right 
then  ;  but  what  in  the  world  is  this  12/  ?  " 

Penelope.  "  The  foolish  amber  beads  you  were  per- 
suaded into  buying  in  the  Burlington  Arcade  ?  " 

Francesca.  "  No,  those  were  seven  shillings  and  they 
are  splitting  already." 

Salemina.  "  Those  soaps  and  sachets  you  bought  on 
the  way  home  the  day  that  you  left  your  purse  in  the 
cab?" 

Francesca.    "  No  ;  they  were  only  five  shillings.    Oh, 
[6] 


THE    WEEKLY    BILL 

perhaps  they  lumped  the  two  things  ;  if  seven  and  five 
are  twelve,  then  that  is  just  what  they  did.  (Here  she 
takes  a  pencil.)  Yes,  they  are  twelve,  so  that 's  right ; 
what  a  comfort.  Now  here 's  2/6  on  the  13th.  That 
was  yesterday,  and  I  can  always  remember  yesterdays  ; 
they  are  my  strong  point.  I  did  n't  spend  a  penny  yes- 
terday ;  oh,  yes  !  I  did  pay  half  a  crown  for  a  potted 
plant,  but  it  was  not  two  and  six,  and  it  was  a  half 
crown  because  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  seen  one  and 
I  took  particular  notice.  I'll  speak  to  Dawson  about 
it,  but  it  will  make  no  difference.  Nobody  but  an  ex- 
pert English  accountant  could  find  a  flaw  in  one  of  these 
bills  and  prove  his  case." 

By  this  time  we  have  agreed  that  the  weekly  bill  as 
a  whole  is  substantially  correct,  and  all  that  Salemina 
has  to  do  is  to  estimate  our  several  shares  in  it;  so 
Francesca  and  I  say  good-night  and  leave  her  toiling 
like  Cicero  in  his  retirement  at  Tusculum.  By  mid- 
night she  has  generally  brought  the  account  to  a  point 
where  a  half-hour's  fresh  attention  in  the  early  morning 
will  finish  it.  Not  that  she  makes  it  come  out  right  to 
a  penny.  She  has  been  treasurer  of  the  Boston  Band 
of  Benevolence,  of  the  Saturday  Morning  Sloyd  Circle,  of 
the  Club  for  the  Keception  of  Eussian  Eefugees,  and  of 
the  Society  for  the  Brooding  of  Buddhism;  but  none 
of  these  organizations  carries  on  its  existence  by  means 
of  pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  or  Salemina' s  resignation 
[7] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

would  have  been  requested  long  ago.  However,  we  are 
not  disposed  to  be  captious ;  we  are  too  glad  to  get  rid 
of  the  bill.  If  our  united  thirds  make  four  or  five  shil- 
lings in  excess,  we  divide  them  equally ;  if  it  comes  the 
other  way  about,  we  make  it  up  in  the  same  manner; 
always  meeting  the  sneers  of  masculine  critics  with  Dr. 
Holmes's  remark  that  a  faculty  for  numbers  is  a  sort 
of  detached-lever  arrangement  that  can  be  put  into  a 
mighty  poor  watch. 


[8] 


There  is  something  a-we-in spiring  to  me 
about  an  English  butler 

SALEMINA  is  so  English !  I  can't  think  how  she  man- 
ages. She  had  not  been  an  hour  on  British  soil  before 
she  asked  a  servant  to  fetch  in  some  coals  and  mend 
the  fire  ;  she  followed  this  Anglicism  by  a  request  for 
a  grilled  chop,  "  a  grilled,  chump  chop,  waiter,  please," 
and  so  on  from  triumph  to  triumph.  She  now  dis- 
courses of  methylated  spirits  as  if  she  had  never  in  her 
life  heard  of  alcohol,  and  all  the  English  equivalents 
for  Americanisms  are  ready  for  use  on  the  tip  of  her 
[9] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

tongue.  She  says  "  conserv't'ry  "  and  "  observ't'ry  ;  " 
she  calls  the  chambermaid  "  Mairy,"  which  is  infinitely 
softer,  to  be  sure,  than  the  American  "  Mary,"  with  its 
over-long  a  ;  she  ejaculates,  "  Quite  so  ! "  in  all  the 
pauses  of  conversation,  and  talks  of  smoke-rooms,  and 
camisoles,  and  luggage-vans,  and  slip-bodies,  and  trams, 
and  mangling,  and  goffering.  She  also  eats  jam  for 
breakfast  as  if  she  had  been  reared  on  it,  when  every 
one  knows  that  the  average  American  has  to  contract 
the  jam  habit  by  patient  and  continuous  practice. 

This  instantaneous  assimilation  of  English  customs 
does  not  seem  to  be  affectation  on  Salemina's  part ;  nor 
will  I  wrong  her  by  fancying  that  she  went  through  a 
course  of  training  before  she  left  Boston.  From  the 
moment  she  landed  you  could  see  that  her  foot  was  on 
her  native  heath.  She  inhaled  the  fog  with  a  sense  of 
intoxication  that  the  east  winds  of  New  England  had 
never  given  her,  and  a  great  throb  of  patriotism  swelled 
in  her  breast  when  she  first  met  the  Princess  of  Wales 
in  Hyde  Park. 

As  for  me,  I  get  on  charmingly  with  the  English 
nobility  and  sufficiently  well  with  the  gentry,  but  the 
upper  servants  strike  terror  to  my  soul.  There  is 
something  awe-inspiring  to  me  about  an  English  butler. 
If  they  would  only  put  him  in  livery,  or  make  him  wear 
a  silver  badge  ;  anything,  in  short,  to  temper  his  pride 
and  prevent  one  from  mistaking  him  for  the  master  of 
[10] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

the  house  or  the  bishop  within  his  gates.  When  I  call 
upon  Lady  De Wolfe,  I  say  to  myself  impressively,  as 
I  go  up  the  steps  :  "  You  are  as  good  as  a  butler,  as  well 
born  and  well  bred  as  a  butler,  even  more  intelligent 
than  a  butler.  Now,  simply  because  he  has  an  unap- 
proachable haughtiness  of  demeanor,  which  you  can  re- 
spectfully admire,  but  can  never  hope  to  imitate,  do  not 
cower  beneath  the  polar  light  of  his  eye ;  assert  yourself ; 
be  a  woman ;  be  an  American  citizen  !  "  All  in  vain. 
The  moment  the  door  opens  I  ask  for  Lady  De  Wolfe  in 
so  timid  a  tone  that  I  know  Parker  thinks  me  the  parlor 
maid's  sister  who  has  rung  the  visitors'  bell  by  mistake. 
If  my  lady  is  within,  I  follow  Parker  to  the  drawing- 
room,  my  knees  shaking  under  me  at  the  prospect  of 
committing  some  solecism  in  his  sight.  Lady  De- 
Wolfe's  husband  has  been  noble  only  four  months,  and 
Parker  of  course  knows  it,  and  perhaps  affects  even 
greater  hauteur  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  vulgar 
commoner  from  the  newness  of  the  title. 

Dawson,  our  butler  at  Smith's  private  hotel,  wields 
the  same  blighting  influence  on  our  spirits,  accustomed 
to  the  soft  solicitations  of  the  negro  waiter  or  the  com- 
fortable indifference  of  the  free-born  American.  We 
never  indulge  in  ordinary  democratic  or  frivolous  con- 
versation when  Dawson  is  serving  us  at  dinner.  We 
"  talk  up  "  to  him  so  far  as  we  are  able,  and  before  we 
utter  any  remark  we  inquire  mentally  whether  he  is 
[12] 


THE    POWDERED    FOOTMAN    SMILES 

likely  to  think  it  good  form.  Accordingly,  I  maintain 
throughout  dinner  a  lofty  height  of  aristocratic  elegance 
that  impresses  even  the  impassive  Dawson,  towards 


He  dilutes  the  customary  scorn 

of  his  glance 


whom  it  is  solely  directed.  To  the  amazement  and 
amusement  of  Salemina  (who  always  takes  my  cheerful 
inanities  at  their  face  value),  I  give  an  hypothetical 
account  of  my  afternoon  engagements,  interlarding  it 
so  thickly  with  countesses  and  marchionesses  and  lords 
[13] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 


and  honorables  that 
though  Dawson  has 
passed  soup  to  duch- 
esses, and  scarcely  ever 
handed  a  plate  to  any- 
thing less  than  a  bar- 
oness, he  dilutes  the 
customary  scorn  of  his 
glance,  and  makes  it 
two  parts  condescend- 
ing approval  as  it  rests 
on  me  —  Penelope 
Hamilton,  of  the  great 
American  working  class 
(unlimited). 

Apropos  of  the  ser- 
vants, it  seems  to  me 
that  the  British  foot- 
man has  relaxed  a  tri- 
fle since  we  were  last 

here  ;  or  is  it  possible  that  he  reaches  the  height  of  his 
immobility  at  the  height  of  the  London  season,  and  as 
it  declines  does  he  decline  and  become  flesh?  At  all 
events,  I  have  twice  seen  a  footman  change  his  weight 
from  one  leg  to  the  other,  as  he  stood  at  a  shop  entrance 
with  his  lady's  mantle  over  his  arm ;  twice  have  I  seen 
one  stroke  his  chin,  and  several  times  have  I  observed 


Like  animate  objects 

with  vital  organs 


THE    POWDERED    FOOTMAN    SMILES 

others,  during  the  month  of  July,  conduct  themselves 
in  many  respects  like  animate  objects  with  vital  organs. 
Lest  this  incendiary  statement  be  challenged,  leveled 
as  it  is  at  an  institution  whose  stability  and  order  are 
but  feebly  represented  by  the  eternal  march  of  the  stars 
in  their  courses,  I  hasten  to  explain  that  in  none  of 
these  cases  cited  was  it  a  powdered  footman  who  (to 
use  a  Delsartean  expression)  withdrew  will  from  his 
body  and  devitalized  it  before  the  public  eye.  I  have 
observed  that  the  powdered  personage  has  much  greater 
control  over  his  muscles  than  the  ordinary  footman  with 
human  hair,  and  is  infinitely  his  superior  in  rigidity. 
Dawson  tells  me  confidentially  that  if  a  footman  smiles 
there  is  little  chance  of  his  rising  in  the  world.  He 
says  a  sense  of  humor  is  absolutely  fatal  in  that  calling, 
and  that  he  has  discharged  many  a  good  footman  be- 
cause of  an  intelligent  and  expressive  face. 

I  tremble  to  think  of  what  the  powdered  footman 
may  become  when  he  unbends  in  the  bosom  of  his  fam- 
ily. When,  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  apartments,  the 
powder  is  washed  off,  the  canary-seed  pads  removed 
from  his  aristocratic  calves,  and  his  scarlet  and  buff 
magnificence  exchanged  for  a  simple  neglige,  I  should 
think  he  might  be  guilty  of  almost  any  indiscretion  or 
violence.  I  for  one  would  never  consent  to  be  the.  wife 
and  children  of  a  powdered  footman,  and  receive  him  in 
his  moments  of  reaction. 

[15] 


Asked  her  plump  'whether  the  religion  of  the  American  Indian  \ 

ivas  or  <was  not  a  pure  theism 

Is  it  to  my  credit,  or  to  my  eternal  dishonor,  that  I 
once  made  a  powdered  footman  smile,  and  that,  too, 
when  he  was  handing  a  buttered  muffin  to  an  earl's 
daughter  ? 

It  was  while  we  were  paying  a  visit  at  Marjorimallow 
Hall,  Sir  Owen  and  Lady  Marjorimallow's  place  in 
[16] 


EGGS    A   LA    COQUE 

Surrey.  This  was  to  be  our  first  appearance  in  an  Eng- 
lish country  house,  and  we  made  elaborate  preparations. 
Only  our  freshest  toilettes  were  packed,  and  these  were 
arranged  in  our  trunks  with  the  sole  view  of  impressing 
the  lady's  maid  who  should  unpack  them.  We  each 
purchased  dressing-cases  and  new  fittings,  Francesca's 
being  of  sterling  silver,  Salemina's  of  triple  plate,  and 
mine  of  celluloid,  as  befitted  our  several  fortunes.  Sale- 
mina  read  up  on  English  politics ;  Francesca  practiced 
a  new  way  of  dressing  her  hair ;  and  I  made  up  a  port- 
folio of  sketches.  We  counted,  therefore,  on  represent- 
ing American  letters,  beauty,  and  art  to  that  portion  of 
the  great  English  public  staying  at  Marjorimallow  Hall. 
(I  must  interject  a  parenthesis  here  to  the  effect  that 
matters  did  not  move  precisely  as  we  expected ;  for  at 
table,  where  most  of  our  time  was  passed,  Francesca  had 
for  a  neighbor  a  scientist,  who  asked  her  plump  whether 
the  religion  of  the  American  Indian  was  or  was  not  a 
pure  theism ;  Salemina's  partner  objected  to  the  word 
"  politics  "  in  the  mouth  of  a  woman ;  while  my  atten- 
dant squire  adored  a  good  bright-colored  chromo.  But 
this  is  anticipating.) 

Three  days  before  our  departure,  I  remarked  at  the 
breakfast  table,  Dawson  being  absent :  "  My  dear  girls, 
you  are  aware  that  we  have  ordered  fried  eggs,  scram- 
bled eggs,  buttered  eggs,  and  poached  eggs  ever  since 
we  came  to  Dovermarle  Street,  simply  because  we  do 
[17] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

not  know  how  to  eat  boiled  eggs  prettily  from  the  shell, 
English  fashion,  and  cannot  break  them  into  a  cup  or  a 
glass,  American  fashion,  on  account  of  the  effect  upon 
Dawson.  Now  there  will  certainly  be  boiled  eggs  at 


Without  apparent  effort 


Marforimallow  Hall,  and  we  cannot  refuse  them  morn- 
ing after  morning  ;  it  will  be  cowardly  (which  is  unplea- 
sant), and  it  will  be  remarked  (which  is  worse).  Eating 
them  minced  in  an  egg-cup,  in  a  baronial  hall,  with  the 
remains  of  a  drawbridge  in  the  grounds,  is  equally  im- 
[18] 


EGGS    X   LA   COQUE 

possible;  if  we  do  that,  Lady  Marjorimallow  will  be 
having  our  luggage  examined,  to  see  if  we  carry  wig- 
wams and  war  whoops  about  with  us.  No,  it  is  clearly 
necessary  that  we  master  the  gentle  art  of  eating  eggs 
tidily  and  daintily  from  the  shell.  I  have  seen  English- 
women —  very  dull  ones,  too  —  do  it  without  apparent 
effort ;  I  have  even  seen  an  English  infant  do  it,  and 
that  without  soiling  her  apron,  or,  as  Salemina  would 
say,  '  messing  her  pinafore.'  I  propose,  therefore,  that 
we  order  soft-boiled  eggs  daily ;  that  we  send  Dawson 
from  the  room  directly  breakfast  is  served ;  and  that 
then  and  there  we  have  a  class  for  opening  eggs,  lowest 
grade,  object  method.  Any  person  who  cuts  the  shell 
badly,  or  permits  the  egg  to  leak  over  the  rim,  or  allows 
yellow  dabs  on  the  plate,  or  upsets  the  cup,  or  stains 
her  fingers,  shall  be  fined  '  tuppence '  and  locked  into 
her  bedroom  for  five  minutes." 

The  first  morning  we  were  all  in  the  bedroom  to- 
gether, and,  there  being  no  blameless  person  to  collect 
fines,  the  wildest  civil  disorder  prevailed. 

On  the  second  day  Salemina  and  I  improved  slightly, 
but  Francesca  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  her 
hand  trembled  (the  love-letter  mail  had  come  in  from 
America).  We  were  obliged  to  tell  her,  as  we  collected 
"  tuppence  "  twice  on  the  same  egg,  that  she  must  either 
remain  at  home,  or  take  an  oilcloth  pinafore  to  Marjori- 
mallow Hall. 

[19] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

But  "  ease  is  the  lovely  result  of  forgotten  toil,"  and 
it  is  only  a  question  of  time  and  desire  with  Ameri- 
cans, we  are  so  clever.  Other  nations  have  to  be  trained 
from  birth ;  but  as  we  need  only  an  ounce  of  training 
where  they  need  a  pound,  we  can  afford  to  procrasti- 
nate. Sometimes  we  procrastinate  too  long,  but  that  is 
a  trifle.  On  the  third  morning  success  crowned  our  ef- 
forts. Salemina  smiled,  and  I  told  an  anecdote,  during 
the  operation,  although  my  egg  was  cracked  in  the  boil- 
ing and  I  question  if  the  Queen's  favorite  maid  of  honor 
could  have  managed  it  prettily.  Accordingly,  when  eggs 
were  brought  to  the  breakfast  table  at  Marjorimallow 
Hall,  we  were  only  slightly  nervous.  Francesca  was 
at  the  far  end  of  the  long  table,  and  I  do  not  know 
how  she  fared,  but  from  various  Anglicisms  that  Sale- 
mina dropped,  as  she  chatted  with  the  Queen's  Counsel 
on  her  left,  I  could  see  that  her  nerve  was  steady  and 
circulation  free.  We  exchanged  glances  (there  was  the 
mistake !),  and  with  an  embarrassed  laugh  she  struck 
her  egg  a  hasty  blow. 

Her  egg-cup  slipped  and  lurched ;  a  top  fraction  of 
the  egg  flew  in  the  direction  of  the  Q.  C.,  and  the  re- 
maining portion  oozed,  in  yellow  confusion,  rapidly  into 
her  plate.  Alas  for  that  past  mistress  of  elegant  dig- 
nity, Salemina  !  If  I  had  been  at  her  Majesty's  table, 
I  should  have  smiled,  even  if  I  had  gone  to  the  Tower 
the  next  moment ;  but  as  it  was,  I  became  hysterical. 
[20] 


EGGS    X    LA    COQJJE 

My  neighbor,  a  portly  member  of  Parliament,  looked 
amazed,  Salemina  grew  scarlet,  the  situation  was  charged 
with  danger;  and,  rapidly  viewing  the  various  exits,  I 
chose  the  humorous  one,  and  told  as  picturesquely  as 


My  neighbor,  a  portly  member 

of  Parliament,  looked  amazed 


possible  the  whole  story  of  our  school  of  egg-opening  in 
Dovermarle  Street,  the  highly  arduous  and  encouraging 
rehearsals  conducted  there,  and  the  stupendous  failure 
incident  to  our  first  public  appearance.  Sir  Owen  led 
the  good-natured  laughter  and  applause ;  lords  and 
[21] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

ladies,  Q.  C.'s  and  M.  P.'s,  joined  in  with  a  will ;  poor 
Salemina  raised  her  drooping  head,  opened  and  ate  a 
second  egg  with  the  repose  of  a  Vere  de  Vere  —  and  the 
footman  smiled ! 


[22] 


I  DO  not  see  why  we  hear  that  the  Englishman  is  de- 
ficient in  a  sense  of  humor.  His  jokes  may  not  be  a 
matter  of  daily  food  to  him,  as  they  are  to  the  Amer- 
ican; he  may  not  love  whimsicality  with  the  same 
passion,  nor  inhale  the  aroma  of  a  witticism  with  as 
keen  a  relish  ;  but  he  likes  fun  whenever  he  sees  it,  and 
[23] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

he  sees  it  as  often  as  most  people.  It  may  be  that  we 
find  the  Englishman  more  receptive  to  our  bits  of  fem- 
inine nonsense  just  now,  simply  because  this  is  the  day 
of  the  American  woman  in  London,  and,  having  been 
assured  that  she  is  an  entertaining  personage,  young 
John  Bull  is  willing  to  take  it  for  granted  so  long  as 
she  does  not  try  to  marry  him,  and  even  this  pleasure 
he  will  allow  her  on  occasion,  —  if  well  paid  for  it. 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  feel  it  an  absurdity  to 
label  nations  with  national  traits,  and  then  endeavor 
to  make  individuals  conform  to  the  required  standard. 
It  is  possible,  I  suppose,  to  draw  certain  broad  distinc- 
tions, though  even  these  are  subject  to  change  ;  but  the 
habit  of  generalizing  from  one  particular,  that  mainstay 
of  the  cheap  and  obvious  essayist,  has  rooted  many  fic- 
tions in  the  public  mind.  Nothing,  for  instance,  can 
blot  from  my  memory  the  profound,  searching,  and  ex- 
haustive analysis  of  a  great  nation  which  I  learned  in 
my  small  geography  when  I  was  a  child,  namely,  "  The 
French  are  a  gay  and  polite  people,  fond  of  dancing  and 
light  wines." 

One  young  Englishman  whom  I  have  met  lately  errs 
on  the  side  of  over-appreciation.  He  laughs  before, 
during,  and  after  every  remark  I  make,  unless  it  be  a 
simple  request  for  food  or  drink.  This  is  an  acquaint- 
ance of  Willie  Beresford,  the  Honorable  Arthur  Pon- 
sonby,  who  was  the  "  whip "  on  our  coach  drive  to 
[24] 


THE    ENGLISH    SENSE    OF   HUMOR 

Dorking,  —  dear,  delightful,  adorable  Dorking,  of  hen 
celebrity. 

Salemina  insisted  on  my  taking  the  box  seat,  in  the 
hope  that  the  Honorable  Arthur  would  amuse  me.  She 
little  knew  him !  He  sapped  me  of  all  my  ideas,  and 
gave  me  none  in  exchange.  Anything  so  unspeakably 
heavy  I  never  encountered.  It  is  very  difficult  for  a 
woman  who  does  n't  know  a  nigh  horse  from  an  off  one, 
nor  the  wheelers  from  the  headers  (or  is  it  the  front- 
ers  ?),  to  find  subjects  of  conversation  with  a  gentleman 
who  spends  three  fourths  of  his  existence  on  a  coach. 
It  was  the  more  difficult  for  me  because  I  could  not  de- 
cide whether  Willie  Beresford  was  cross  because  I  was 
devoting  myself  to  the  whip,  or  because  Francesca  had 
remained  at  home  with  a  headache.  This  state  of  affairs 
continued  for  about  fifteen  miles,  when  it  suddenly 
dawned  upon  the  Honorable  Arthur  that,  however  mis- 
taken my  speech  and  manner,  I  was  trying  to  be  agree- 
able. This  conception  acted  on  the  honest  and  amiable 
soul  like  magic.  I  gradually  became  comprehensible, 
and  finally  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  theory  that,  though 
eccentric,  I  was  harmless  and  amusing,  so  we  got  on 
famously,  —  so  famously  that  Willie  Beresford  grew 
ridiculously  gloomy,  and  I  decided  that  it  could  not  be 
Francesca's  headache. 

The  names  of  these  English  streets  are  a  never-fail- 
ing source  of  delight  to  me.  In  that  one  morning  we 
[25] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

drove  past  Pie,  Pudding,  and  Petticoat  Lanes,  and 
later  on  we  found  ourselves  in  a  "Prudent  Passage," 
which  opened,  very  inappropriately,  into  "Huggin 
Lane."  Willie  Beresford  said  it  was  the  first  time  he 
had  ever  heard  of  anything  so  disagreeable  as  prudence 
terminating  in  anything  so  agreeable  as  huggin'.  When 
he  had  been  severely  reprimanded  by  his  mother  for 
this  shocking  speech,  I  said  to  the  Honorable  Arthur :  — 

"  I  don't  understand  your  business  signs  in  England, 
—  this  '  Company,  Limited,'  and  that  '  Company,  Lim- 
ited.' That  one,  of  course,  is  quite  plain  "  (pointing  to 
the  front  of  a  building  on  the  village  street),  "  '  Goat's 
Milk  Company,  Limited  ; '  I  suppose  they  have  but  one 
or  two  goats,  and  necessarily  the  milk  must  be  limited." 

Salemina  says  that  this  was  not  in  the  least  funny, 
that  it  was  absolutely  flat ;  but  it  had  quite  the  oppo- 
site effect  upon  the  Honorable  Arthur.  He  had  no 
command  over  himself  or  his  horses  for  some  minutes ; 
and  at  intervals  during  the  afternoon  the  full  felicity 
of  the  idea  would  steal  upon  him,  and  the  smile  of 
reminiscence  would  flit  across  his  ruddy  face. 

The  next  day,  at  the  Eton  and  Harrow  games  at 
Lord's  cricket  ground,  he  presented  three  flowers  of 
British  aristocracy  to  our  party,  and  asked  me  each 
time  to  tell  the  goat  story,  which  he  had  previously 
told  himself,  and  probably  murdered  in  the  telling. 
Not  content  with  this  arrant  flattery,  he  begged  to  be 
[26] 


THE    ENGLISH    SENSE    OF    HUMOR 

allowed  to  recount  some  of  my  international  episodes 
to  a  literary  friend  who  writes  for  Punch.  I  demurred 
decidedly,  but  Salemina  said  that  perhaps  I  ought  to  be 
willing  to  lower  myself  a  trifle  for  the  sake  of  elevating 
Punch  !  This  home  thrust  so  delighted  the  Honorable 
Arthur  that  it  remained  his  favorite  joke  for  days,  and 
the  overworked  goat  was  permitted  to  enjoy  that  obliv- 
ion from  which  Salemina  insists  it  should  never  have 
emerged. 


[27] 


Airing  his  special  grievance 

THE  Honorable  Arthur,  Salemina,  and  I  took  a  stroll 
in  Hyde  Park  one  Sunday  afternoon,  not  for  the  pur- 
pose of  joining  the  fashionable  throng  of  "  pretty  peo- 
ple "  at  Stanhope  Gate,  but  to  mingle  with  the  common 
herd  in  its  special  precincts,  —  precincts  not  set  apart, 
indeed,  by  any  legal  formula,  but  by  a  natural  law  of 
[28] 


A    HYDE    PARK    SUNDAY 

classification  which  seems  to  be  inherent  in  the  uni- 
verse. It  was  a  curious  and  motley  crowd,  a  little  dull, 
perhaps,  but  orderly,  well-behaved,  and  self-respecting, 
with  here  and  there  part  of  the  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  a 
great  city,  a  ragged,  sodden,  hopeless  wretch  wending 
his  way  about  with  the  rest,  thankful  for  any  diver- 
sion. 

Under  the  trees,  each  in  the  centre  of  his  group,  large 
or  small  according  to  his  magnetism  and  eloquence, 
stood  the  park  "  shouter,"  airing  his  special  grievance, 
playing  his  special  part,  preaching  his  special  creed, 
pleading  his  special  cause,  —  anything,  probably,  for  the 
sake  of  shouting.  We  were  plainly  dressed,  and  did  not 
attract  observation  as  we  joined  the  outside  circle  of  one 
of  these  groups  after  another.  It  was  as  interesting  to 
watch  the  listeners  as  the  speakers.  I  wished  I  might 
paint  the  sea  of  faces,  eager,  anxious,  stolid,  atten- 
tive, happy,  and  unhappy :  histories  written  on  many  of 
them ;  others  blank,  unmarked  by  any  thought  or  aspi- 
ration. I  stole  a  sidelong  look  at  the  Honorable  Arthur. 
He  is  an  Englishman  first,  and  a  man  afterwards  (I 
prefer  it  the  other  way),  but  he  does  not  realize  it ;  he 
thinks  he  is  just  like  all  other  good  fellows,  although  he 
is  mistaken.  He  and  Willie  Beresford  speak  the  same 
language,  but  they  are  as  different  as  Malay  and  Es- 
kimo. He  is  an  extreme  type,  but  he  is  very  likable 
and  very  well  worth  looking  at,  with  his  long  coat,  his 
[29] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

silk  hat,  and  the  white  Malmaison  in  his  buttonhole. 
He  is  always  so  radiantly,  fascinatingly  clean,  the  Hon- 
orable Arthur,  simple,  frank,  direct,  sensible,  and  he 
bores  me  almost  to  tears. 

The  first  orator  was  edifying  his  hearers  with  an  ex- 
planation of  the  drama  of  "  The  Cofsican  Brothers," 
and  his  eloquence,  unlike  that  of  the  other  speakers, 
was  largely  inspired  by  the  hope  of  pennies.  It  was 
a  novel  idea,  and  his  interpretation  was  rendered  very 
amusing  to  us  by  the  wholly  original  Yorkshire  accent 
which  he  gave  to  the  French  personages  and  places  in 
the  play. 

An  Irishman  in  black  clerical  garb  held  the  next 
group  together.  He  was  in  some  trouble,  owing  to 
a  pig-headed  and  quarrelsome  Scotchman  in  the  front 
rank,  who  objected  to  each  statement  that  fell  from  his 
lips,  thus  interfering  seriously  with  the  effect  of  his 
peroration.  If  the  Irishman  had  been  more  convin- 
cing, I  suppose  the  crowd  would  have  silenced  the  scof- 
fer, for  these  little  matters  of  discipline  are  always 
attended  to  by  the  audience ;  but  the  Scotchman's  points 
were  too  well  taken ;  he  was  so  trenchant,  in  fact,  at 
times,  that  a  voice  would  cry,  "  Coom  up,  Sandy,  an  'ave 
it  all  yer  own  w'y,  boy  ! "  The  discussion  continued  as 
long  as  we  were  within  hearing  distance,  for  the  Irish- 
man, though  amiable  and  ignorant,  was  firm,  the  "un- 
conquered  Scot "  was  on  his  native  heath  of  argument, 
[30] 


agggd>  sodden,  hopeless  'wretch 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

and  the  listeners  were  willing  to  give  them  both  a 
hearing. 

Under  the  next  tree  a  fluent  cockney  lad  of  sixteen 
or  eighteen  years  was  declaiming  his  bitter  experiences 
with  the  Salvation  Army.  He  had  been  sheltered  in 
one  of  its  beds  which  was  not  to  his  taste,  and  it  had 
found  employment  for  him  which  he  had  to  walk  twen- 
ty-two miles  to  get,  and  which  was  not  to  his  liking 
when  he  did  get  it.  A  meeting  of  the  Salvation  Army 
at  a  little  distance  rendered  his  speech  more  interest- 
ing, as  its  points  were  repeated  and  denied  as  fast  as 
made. 

Of  course  there  were  religious  groups  and  temperance 
groups,  and  groups  devoted  to  the  tearing  down  or  rais- 
ing up  of  most  things  except  the  government ;  for  on 
that  day  there  were  no  Anarchist  and  Socialist  shout- 
ers,  as  is  ordinarily  the  case. 

As  we  strolled  down  one  of  the  broad  roads  under 
the  shade  of  the  noble  trees,  we  saw  the  sun  setting  in 
a  red-gold  haze ;  a  glory  of  vivid  color  made  indescriba- 
bly tender  and  opalescent  by  the  kind  of  luminous  mist 
that  veils  it;  a  wholly  English  sunset,  and  an  alto- 
gether lovely  one.  And  quite  away  from  the  other 
knots  of  people,  there  leaned  against  a  bit  of  wire  fence 
a  poor  old  man  surrounded  by  half  a  dozen  children 
and  one  tired  woman  with  a  nursing  baby.  He  had  a 
tattered  book,  which  seemed  to  be  the  story  of  the  Gos- 
[32] 


Very  'well  ivorth 


looking  at 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

pels,  and  his  little  flock  sat  on  the  greensward  at  his 
feet  as  he  read.  It  may  be  that  he,  too,  had  been  a 
shouter  in  his  lustier  manhood,  and  had  held  a  larger 
audience  together  by  the  power  of  his  belief — but 
now  he  was  helpless  to  attract  any  but  the  children. 
Whether  it  was  the  pathos  of  his  white  hairs,  his  garb 
of  shreds  and  patches,  or  the  mild  benignity  of  his  eye 
that  moved  me,  I  know  not,  but  among  all  the  Sunday 
shouters  in  Hyde  Park  it  seemed  to  me  that  that  qua- 
vering voice  of  the  past  spoke  with  the  truest  note. 


[34] 


Stormy  weather  does  not  -vex  the 

calm  of  the  Park  Love, 


THE  English  Park  Lover,  loving  his  love  on  a  green 
bench  in  Kensington  Gardens  or  Regent's  Park,  or 
indeed  in  any  spot  where  there  is  a  green  bench,  so 
long  as  it  is  within  full  view  of  the  passer-by,  —  this 
English  public  Lover,  male  or  female,  is  a  most  inter- 
esting study,  for  we  have  not  his  exact  counterpart  in 
America.  He  is  thoroughly  respectable,  I  should  think, 
my  urban  Colin.  He  does  not  have  the  air  of  a  gay 
deceiver  roving  from  flower  to  flower,  stealing  honey  as 
he  goes ;  he  looks,  on  the  contrary,  as  if  it  were  his 
[35] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

intention  to  lead  Phoebe  to  the  altar  on  the  next  bank 
holiday  ;  there  is  a  dead  calm  in  his  actions  which  be- 
speaks no  other  course.  If  Colin  were  a  Don  Juan, 
surely  he  would  be  a  trifle  more  ardent,  for  there  is  no 
tropical  fervor  in  his  matter-of-fact  caresses.  He  does 
not  embrace  Phoebe  in  the  park,  apparently,  because  he 
adores  her  to  madness ;  because  her  smile  is  like  fire  in 
his  veins,  melting  down  all  his  defenses ;  because  the 
intoxication  of  her  nearness  is  irresistible ;  because,  in 
fine,  he  cannot  wait  until  he  finds  a  more  secluded  spot : 
nay,  verily,  he  embraces  her  because  —  tell  me,  infatu- 
ated fruiterers,  poulterers,  soldiers,  haberdashers  (lim- 
ited), what  is  your  reason  ?  for  it  does  not  appear  to 
the  casual  eye.  Stormy  weather  does  not  vex  the  calm 
of  the  Park  Lover,  for  "the  rains  of  Marly  do  not  wet" 
when  one  is  in  love.  By  a  clever  manipulation  of  four 
arms  and  four  hands  they  can  manage  an  umbrella  and 
enfold  each  other  at  the  same  time,  though  a  feminine 
mackintosh  is  well  known  to  be  ill  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose, and  a  continuous  drizzle  would  dampen  almost 
any  other  lover  in  the  universe. 

The  park  embrace,  as  nearly  as  I  can  analyze  it, 
seems  to  be  one  part  instinct,  one  part  duty,  one  part 
custom,  and  one  part  reflex  action.  I  have  purposely 
omitted  pleasure  (which,  in  the  analysis  of  the  ordinary 
embrace,  reduces  all  the  other  ingredients  to  an  almost 
invisible  fraction),  because  I  fail  to  find  it ;  but  I  am 
[36] 


THE    ENGLISH    PARK    LOVER 


/  began  to  make  psychological 

investigations 


willing  to  believe  that  in  some  rudimentary  form  it 

does  exist,  because  man  attends  to  no  purely  unpleasant 

f37] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

matter  with  such  praiseworthy  assiduity.  Anything 
more  fixedly  stolid  than  the  Park  Lover  when  he  passes 
his  arm  round  his  chosen  one  and  takes  her  crimson 
hand  in  his,  I  have  never  seen;  unless,  indeed,  it  be 
the  fixed  stolidity  of  the  chosen  one  herself.  I  had  not 
at  first  the  assurance  even  to  glance  at  them  as  I  passed 
by,  blushing  myself  to  the  roots  of  my  hair,  though 
the  offenders  themselves  never  changed  color.  Many  a 
time  have  I  walked  out  of  my  way  or  lowered  my  para- 
sol, for  fear  of  invading  their  Sunday  Eden;  but  a 
spirit  of  inquiry  awoke  in  me  at  last,  and  I  began  to 
make  psychological  investigations,  with  a  view  to  find- 
ing out  at  what  point  embarrassment  would  appear  in 
the  Park  Lover.  I  experimented  (it  was  a  most  ardu- 
ous and  unpleasant  task)  with  upwards  of  two  hundred 
couples,  and  it  is  interesting  to  record  that  self-con- 
sciousness was  not  apparent  in  a  single  instance.  It 
was  not  merely  that  they  failed  to  resent  my  stopping 
in  the  path  directly  opposite  them,  or  my  glaring  most 
offensively  at  them,  nor  that  they  even  allowed  me  to 
sit  upon  their  green  bench  and  witness  their  chaste 
salutes,  but  it  was  that  they  failed  to  perceive  me  at 
all !  There  is  a  kind  of  superb  finish  and  completeness 
about  their  indifference  to  the  public  gaze  which  re- 
moves it  from  ordinary  immodesty,  and  gives  it  a  cer- 
tain scientific  value. 

[38] 


Dead-and-gone  Ctmicifugases 


AMONG  all  my  English  experiences,  none  occupies  so 
important  a  place  as  my  forced  meeting  with  the  Duke 
of  Cimicifugas.  (There  can  be  no  harm  in  my  telling 
the  incident,  so  long  as  I  do  not  give  the  right  names, 
which  are  very  well  known  to  fame.)  The  Duchess  of 
Cimicifugas,  who  is  charming,  unaffected,  and  lovable, 
so  report  says,  has  among  her  chosen  friends  an  untitled 
woman  whom  we  will  call  Mrs.  Apis  Mellilica.  I  met 
her  only  daughter,  Hilda,  in  America,  and  we  became 
quite  intimate.  It  seems  that  Mrs.  Apis  Mellifica,  who 
has  an  income  of  £20,000  a  year,  often  exchanges  pre- 
sents with  the  duchess,  and  at  this  time  she  had  brought 
[39] 


PENELOPE'S   EXPERIENCES 

with  her  from  the  Continent  some  rare  old  tapestries 
with  which  to  adorn  a  new  morning-room  at  Cimicifugas 
House.  These  tapestries  were  to  be  hung  during  the 
absence  of  the  duchess  in  Homburg,  and  were  to  greet 
her  as  a  birthday  surprise  on  her  return.  Hilda  Melli- 
fica,  who  is  one  of  the  most  talented  amateur  artists  in 
London,  and  who  has  exquisite  taste  in  all  matters  of 
decoration,  was  to  go  down  to  the  ducal  residence  to  in- 
spect the  work,  and  she  obtained  permission  from  Lady 
Veratrum  (the  confidential  companion  of  the  duchess) 
to  bring  me  with  her.  I  started  on  this  journey  to  the 
country  with  all  possible  delight,  little  surmising  the 
embarrassments  that  lay  in  store  for  me  in  the  merci- 
fully hidden  future. 

The  tapestries  were  perfect,  and  Lady  Veratrum  was 
most  amiable  and  affable,  though  the  blue  blood  of  the 
Belladonnas  courses  in  her  veins,  and  her  great-grand- 
father was  the  celebrated  Earl  of  Ehus  Tox,  who  ren- 
dered such  notable  service  to  his  sovereign.  We  roamed 
through  the  splendid  apartments,  inspected  the  superb 
picture  gallery,  where  scores  of  dead-and-gone  Cimici- 
fugases  (most  of  them  very  plain)  were  glorified  by  the 
art  of  Van  Dyck,  Sir  Joshua,  or  Gainsborough,  and  ad- 
mired the  priceless  collections  of  marbles  and  cameos 
and  bronzes.  It  was  about  four  o'clock  when  we  were 
conducted  to  a  magnificent  apartment  for  a  brief  rest, 
as  we  were  to  return  to  London  at  half  past  six.  As 
[40] 


A    DUCAL    TEA-PARTY 

Lady  Veratrum  left  us,  she  remarked  casually,  "His 
Grace  will  join  us  at  tea." 

The  door  closed,  and  at  the  same  moment  I  sank  upon 
the  brocaded  satin  state  bed  and  removed  my  hat  and 
tore  off  my  gloves  like  one  distraught. 

"Hilda,"  I  exclaimed,  "you  brought  me  here,  and 
you  must  rescue  me,  for  I  absolutely  decline  to  drink 
tea  with  a  duke." 

"Nonsense,  Penelope,  don't  be  absurd,"  she  replied. 
"  I  have  never  happened  to  see  him  myself,  and  I  am  a 
trifle  nervous,  but  it  cannot  be  very  terrible,  I  should 
think." 

"  Not  to  you,  perhaps,  but  to  me  impossible,"  I  said. 
"  I  thought  he  was  in  Homburg,  or  I  would  never  have 
entered  this  place.  It  is  not  that  I  fear  nobility.  I 
could  meet  her  Majesty  the  Queen  at  the  Court  of  St. 
James  without  the  slightest  flutter  of  embarrassment, 
because  I  know  I  could  trust  her  not  to  presume  on  my 
defenselessness  to  enter  into  conversation  with  me. 
But  this  duke,  whose  dukedom  very  likely  dates  back 
to  the  hour  of  the  Norman  Conquest,  is  a  very  different 
person,  and  is  to  be  met  under  very  different  circum- 
stances. He  may  ask  me  my  politics.  Of  course  I  can 
tell  him  that  I  am  a  Mugwump,  but  what  if  he  asks  me 
why  I  am  a  Mugwump  ?  " 

"  He  will  not,"  Hilda  answered.     "  Englishmen  are 
not  wholly  devoid  of  feeling  !  " 
[41] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

"  And  how  shall  I  address  him  ?  "  I  went  on.  "  Does 
one  call  him  '  your  Grace/  or  '  your  Koyal  Highness  '  ? 
Oh,  for  a  thousandth  part  of  the  unblushing  imperti- 
nence of  that  countrywoman  of  mine  who  called  your 
future  king  '  Tummy  '  !  but  she  was  a  beauty,  and  I  am 
not  pretty  enough  to  be  anything  but  discreetly  well- 
mannered.  Shall  you  sit  in  his  presence,  or  stand  and 
grovel  alternately  ?  Does  one  have  to  curtsy  ?  Because 
if  so,  make  any  excuses  you  like  for  me,  Hilda :  say 
I  'm  eccentric,  say  I  'm  deranged,  say  I  'm  a  Nihilist. 
I  will  hide  under  the  scullery  table,  fling  myself  in  the 
moat,  lock  myself  in  the  keep,  let  the  portcullis  fall  on 
me,  die  any  appropriate  early  English  death,  —  anything 
rather  than  curtsy  in  a  tailor-made  gown ;  I  can  kneel 
beautifully,  Hilda,  if  that  will  do :  you  remember  my 
ancestors  were  brought  up  on  kneeling,  and  yours  on 
curtsying,  and  it  makes  a  great  difference  in  the  mus- 
cles." 

Hilda  smiled  benignantly  as  she  wound  the  coil  of 
russet  hair  round  her  shapely  head.  "  He  will  think 
whatever  you  do  charming,  and  whatever  you  say  bril- 
liant," she  said ;  "  that  is  the  advantage  in  being  an 
American  woman." 

Just  at  this  moment  Lady  Veratrum  sent  a  haughty 

maid  to  ask  us  if  we  would  meet  her  under  the  trees  in 

the  park  which  surrounds  the  house.     I  hailed  this  as 

a  welcome  reprieve  to  the  dreaded  function  of  tea  with 

[42] 


A    DUCAL    TEA-PARTY 


'with  the  duke 


the  duke,  and  made  up  my  mind,  while  descending  the 
marble  staircase,  that  I  would  slip  away  and  lose  myself 
accidentally  in  the  grounds,  appearing  only  in  time  for 
the  London  train.  This  happy  mode  of  issue  from  my 
difficulties  lent  a  springiness  to  my  step,  as  we  followed 
a  waxwork  footman  over  the  velvet  sward  to  a  nook 
under  a  group  of  copper  beeches.  But  there,  to  my  dis- 
may, stood  a  charmingly  appointed  tea-table  glittering 
with  silver  and  Eoyal  Worcester,  with  several  liveried 
servants  bringing  cakes  and  muffins  and  berries  to  Lady 
Veratrum,  who  sat  behind  the  steaming  urn.  I  started 
to  retreat,  when  there  appeared,  walking  towards  us,  a 
simple  man,  with  nothing  in  the  least  extraordinary 
about  him. 

[43] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

"  That  cannot  be  the  Duke  of  Cimicifugas,"  thought 
I,  "  a  man  in  a  corduroy  jacket,  without  a  sign  of  a 
suite ;  probably  it  is  a  Banished  Duke  come  from  the 
Forest  of  Arden  for  a  buttered  muffin." 

But  it  was  the  Duke  of  Cimicifugas,  and  no  other. 
Hilda  was  presented  first,  while  I  tried  to  fire  my  cour- 
age by  thinking  of  the  Puritan  Fathers,  and  Plymouth 
Hock,  and  the  Boston  Tea-Party,  and  the  battle  of  Bun- 
ker Hill.  Then  my  turn  came.  I  murmured  some 
words  which  might  have  been  anything,  and  bowed  low 
in  a  stiff-necked,  self-respecting  sort  of  way,  for  my 
knees  refused  to  undertake  any  graceful  curves.  Then 
we  talked,  —  at  least  the  duke  and  Lady  Veratrum 
talked.  Hilda  said  a  few  blameless  words,  such  as 
befitted  an  untitled  English  virgin  in  the  presence  of 
the  nobility  ;  while  I  maintained  the  probationary 
silence  required  by  Pythagoras  of  his  first  year's  pupils. 
My  idea  was  to  observe  this  first  duke  without  uttering 
a  word,  to  talk  with  the  second  (if  I  should  ever  meet  a 
second),  to  chat  with  the  third,  and  to  secure  the  fourth 
for  Francesca  to  take  home  to  America  with  her. 

Of  course  I  know  that  dukes  are  very  dear,  but  she 
could  afford  any  reasonable  sum,  if  she  found  one  whom 
she  fancied ;  the  principal  obstacle  in  the  path  is  that 
tiresome  American  lawyer  with  whom  she  considers  it  a 
duty  to  be  in  love.  I  have  never  gone  beyond  that  first 
experience,  however,  for  dukes  in  England  are  as  rare 
[44] 


r 


Nothing  in  the  least 

extraordinary  about  hin 

[45] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

as  snakes  in  Ireland.  I  can't  think  why  they  allow 
them  to  die  out  so,  —  the  dukes,  not  the  snakes.  If  a 
country  is  to  have  an  aristocracy,  let  there  be  enough 
of  it,  say  I,  and  make  it  imposing  at  the  top,  where  it 
shows  most,  especially  since,  as  I  understand  it,  all  that 
Victoria  has  to  do  is  to  say,  "  Let  there  be  dukes,"  and 
there  are  dukes. 


[46] 


r 


The  driver  tells  you  everything 

of  interest  along  the  iuay 


IF  one  really  wants  to  know  London,  one  must  live 
there  for  years  and  years. 

This  sounds  like  a  reasonable  and  sensible  statement, 
yet  the  moment  it  is  made  I  retract  it,  as  quite  mislead- 
ing and  altogether  too  general. 

We  have  a  charming  English  friend  who  has  not  been 
to  the  Tower  since  he  was  a  small  boy,  and  begs  us  to 
conduct  him  there  on  the  very  next  Saturday.  Another 
[47] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

has  not  seen  "Westminster  Abbey  for  fifteen  years,  be- 
cause he  attends  church  at  St.  Dunstan's-in-the-East. 
Another  says  that  he  should  like  to  have  us  "  read  up  " 
London  in  the  red-covered  Baedeker,  and  then  show  it 
to  him,  properly  and  systematically.  Another,  a  flower 
of  nobility,  confesses  that  he  never  mounted  the  top  of 
an  omnibus  in  the  evening  for  the  sake  of  seeing  Lon- 
don after  dark,  but  that  he  thinks  it  would  be  rather 
jolly,  and  that  he  will  join  us  in  such  a  democratic  jour- 
ney any  time  we  like. 

We  think  we  get  a  kind  of  vague  apprehension  of 
what  London  means  from  the  top  of  a  'bus  better  than 
anywhere  else,  and  this  vague  apprehension  is  as  much 
as  the  thoughtful  or  imaginative  observer  will  ever 
arrive  at  in  a  lifetime.  It  is  too  stupendous  to  be  com- 
prehended. The  mind  is  dazed  by  its  distances,  con- 
fused by  its  contrasts  ;  tossed  from  the  spectacle  of  its 
wealth  to  the  contemplation  of  its  poverty,  the  brilliancy 
of  Its  extravagances  to  the  stolidity  of  its  miseries,  the 
luxuries  that  blossom  in  Mayfair  to  the  brutalities  that 
lurk  in  Whitechapel. 

We  sometimes  set  out  on  a  fine  morning,  Salemina 
and  I,  and  travel  twenty  miles  in  the  day,  although  we 
have  to  double  our  twopenny  fee  several  times  to  accom- 
plish that  distance. 

We  never  know  whither  we  are  going,  and  indeed  it 
is  not  a  matter  of  great  moment  (I  mean  to  a  woman) 
[48] 


TUPPENNY    TRAVELS    IN    LONDON 

where  everything  is  new  and  strange,  and  where  the 
driver,  if  one  is  fortunate  enough  to  be  on  a  front  seat, 
tells  one  everything  of  interest  along  the  way,  and  in- 
structs one  regarding  a  different  route  back  into  town. 

We  have  our  favorite  'buses,  of  course  ;  but  when  one 
appears,  and  we  jump  on  while  it  is  still  in  motion,  as 
the  conductor  seems  to  prefer,  and  pull  ourselves  up 
the  corkscrew  stairway,  —  not  a  simple  matter  in  the 
garments  of  sophistication,  —  we  have  little  time  to  ob- 
serve more  than  the  color  of  the  lumbering  vehicle. 

We  like  the  Cadbury's  Cocoa  'bus  very  much ;  it 
takes  you  by  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  Bow-Bells,  the  Temple, 
Mansion  House,  St.  Paul's,  and  the  Bank. 

If  you  want  to  go  and  lunch,  or  dine  frugally,  at  the 
Cheshire  Cheese,  eat  black  pudding  and  drink  pale  ale, 
sit  in  Dr.  Johnson's  old  seat,  and  put  your  head  against 
the  exact  spot  on  the  wall  where  his  rested,  —  although 
the  traces  of  this  form  of  worship  are  all  too  apparent, 
—  then  you  jump  on  a  Lipton's  Tea  'bus,  and  are  depos- 
ited at  the  very  door.  All  is  novel,  and  all  is  inter- 
esting, whether  it  be  the  crowded  streets  of  the  East 
End  traversed  by  the  Davies'  Pea-fed  Bacon  'buses, 
or  whether  you  ride  to  the  very  outskirts  of  London, 
through  green  fields  and  hedgerows,  by  the  Ridge's 
Food  or  Nestle's  Milk  route. 

There  are  trams,  too,  which  take  one  to  delightful 
places,  although  the  seats  on  top  extend  lengthwise, 
[49] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

after  the  old  "  knife-board  pattern,"  and  one  does  not 
get  so  good  a  view  of  the  country  as  from  the  "  garden 
seats  "  on  the  roof  of  the  omnibus  ;  still  there  is  nothing 
we  like  better  on  a  warm  morning  than  a  good  outing 
on  the  Vinolia  tram  that  we  pick  up  in  Shaftesbury 
Avenue.  There  is  a  street  running  from  Shaftesbury 
Avenue  into  Oxford  Street,  which  was  once  the  village 
of  St.  Giles,  one  of  the  dozens  of  hamlets  swallowed  up 
by  the  great  maw  of  London,  and  it  still  looks  like  a 
hamlet,  although  it  has  been  absorbed  for  many  years. 
We  constantly  happen  on  these  absorbed  villages  from 
which,  not  a  century  ago,  people  drove  up  to  town  in 
their  coaches. 

If  you  wish  to  see  another  phase  of  life,  go  out  on  a 
Saturday  evening,  from  nine  o'clock  on  to  eleven,  start- 
ing on  a  Beecham's  Pill  'bus,  and  keep  to  the  poorer 
districts,  alighting  occasionally  to  stand  with  the  crowd 
in  the  narrower  thoroughfares. 

It  is  a  market  night,  and  the  streets  will  be  a  moving 
mass  of  men  and  women  buying  at  the  hucksters'  stalls. 
Everything  that  can  be  sold  at  a  stall  is  there :  fruit, 
vegetables,  meat,  fish,  crockery,  tinware,  children's 
clothing,  cheap  toys,  boots,  shoes,  and  sunbonnets,  all 
in  reckless  confusion.  The  venders  cry  their  wares  in 
stentorian  tones,  vying  with  one  another  to  produce 
excitement  and  induce  patronage,  while  gas  jets  are 
streaming  into  the  air  from  the  roofs  and  flaring  from 
[50] 


TUPPENNY    TRAVELS    IN    LONDON 

the  sides  of  the  stalls ;  children  crying,  children  dan- 
cing to  the  strains  of  an  accordion,  children  quarrel- 
ing, children  scrambling  for  the  refuse  fruit.  In  the 
midst  of  this  spectacle,  this  din  and  uproar,  the  women 
are  chaffering  and  bargaining  quite  calmly,  watching 
the  scales  to  see  that  they  get  their  full  pennyworth 
or  sixpennyworth  of  this  or  that.  To  the  student  of 
faces,  of  manners,  of  voices,  of  gestures  ;  to  the  person 
who  sees  unwritten  and  unwritable  stories  in  all  these 
groups  of  men,  women,  and  children,  the  scene  reveals 
many  things  :  some  comedies,  many  tragedies,  a  few 
plain  narratives  (thank  God !),  and  now  and  then  — 
only  now  and  then  —  a  romance.  As  to  the  dark  alleys 
and  tenements  on  the  fringe  of  this  glare  and  brilliant 
confusion,  this  Babel  of  sound  and  ant-bed  of  moving 
life,  one  can  only  surmise  and  pity  and  shudder  ;  close 
one's  eyes  and  ears  to  it  a  little,  or  one  could  never  sleep 
for  thinking  of  it,  yet  not  too  tightly  lest  one  sleep  too 
soundly,  and  forget  altogether  the  seamy  side  of  things. 
One  can  hardly  believe  that  there  is  a  seamy  side  when 
one  descends  from  his  traveling  observatory  a  little  later, 
and  stands  on  Westminster  Bridge,  or  walks  along  the 
Thames  Embankment.  The  lights  of  Parliament  House 
gleam  from  a  hundred  windows,  and  in  the  dark  shad- 
ows by  the  banks  thousands  of  colored  disks  of  light 
twinkle  and  dance  and  glow  like  fairy  lamps,  and  are 
reflected  in  the  silver  surface  of  the  river.  That  river, 
[51] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

as  full  of  mystery  and  contrast  in  its  course  as  London 
itself,  —  where  is  such  another  ?  It  has  ever  been  a 
river  of  pageants,  a  river  of  sighs ;  a  river  into  whose 
placid  depths  kings  and  queens,  princes  and  cardinals, 
have  whispered  state  secrets,  and  poets  have  breathed 
immortal  lines ;  a  stream  of  pleasure,  bearing  daily  on 
its  bosom  such  a  freight  of  youth  and  mirth  and  color 
and  music  as  no  other  river  in  the  world  can  boast. 

Sometimes  we  sally  forth  in  search  of  adventures  in 
the  thick  of  a  "  London  particular,"  Mr.  Guppy's  phrase 
for  a  fog.  When  you  are  once  ensconced  in  your  garden 
seat  by  the  driver,  you  go  lumbering  through  a  world 
of  bobbing  shadows,  where  all  is  weird,  vague,  gray, 
dense ;  and  where  great  objects  loom  up  suddenly  in  the 
mist  and  then  disappear ;  where  the  sky,  heavy  and 
leaden,  seems  to  descend  bodily  upon  your  head,  and 
the  air  is  full  of  a  kind  of  luminous  yellow  smoke. 

A  Lipton's  Tea  'bus  is  the  only  one  we  can  see  plainly 
in  this  sort  of  weather,  and  so  we  always  take  it.  I  do 
not  wish,  however,  to  be  followed  literally  in  these 
modest  suggestions  for  omnibus  rides,  because  I  am 
well  aware  that  they  are  not  sufficiently  specific  for  the 
ordinary  tourist  who  wishes  to  see  London  systemat- 
ically and  without  any  loss  of  time.  If  you  care  to  go 
to  any  particular  place,  or  reach  that  place  by  any  par- 
ticular time,  you  must  not,  of  course,  look  at  the  most 
conspicuous  signs  on  the  tops  and  ends  of  the  chariots 
[52] 


TUPPENNY    TRAVELS    IN    LONDON 

as  we  do  ;  you  must  stand  quietly  at  one  of  the  regular 
points  of  departure  and  try  to  decipher,  in  a  narrow 
horizontal  space  along  the  side,  certain  little  words  that 
show  the  route  and  destination  of  the  vehicle.  They 
say  that  it  can  be  done,  and  I  do  not  feel  like  denying 
it  on  my  own  responsibility.  Old  Londoners  assert  that 
they  are  not  blinded  or  confused  by  Pears'  Soap  in  let- 
ters two  feet  high,  scarlet  on  a  gold  ground,  but  can 
see  below  in  fine  print,  and  with  the  naked  eye,  such 
legends  as  Tottenham  Court  Road,  Westbourne  Grove, 
St.  Pancras,  Paddington,  or  Victoria.  It  is  certainly  rea- 
sonable that  the  omnibuses  should  be  decorated  to  suit 
the  inhabitants  of  the  place  rather  than  foreigners,  and 
it  is  perhaps  better  to  carry  a  few  hundred  stupid  souls 
to  the  wrong  station  daily  than  to  allow  them  to  cleanse 
their  hands  with  the  wrong  soap,  or  quench  their  thirst 
with  the  wrong  (which  is  to  say  the  unadvertised) 
beverage. 

The  conductors  do  all  in  their  power  to  mitigate  the 
lot  of  unhappy  strangers,  and  it  is  only  now  and  again 
that  you  hear  an  absent-minded  or  logical  one  call  out, 
"  Castoria  !  All  the  w'y  for  a  penny ! " 

We  claim  for  our  method  of  traveling,  not  that  it  is 
authoritative,  but  that  it  is  simple,  —  suitable  to  per- 
sons whose  desires  are  flexible  and  whose  plans  are  not 
fixed.  It  has  its  disadvantages,  which  may  indeed  be 
said  of  almost  anything.  For  instance,  we  had  gone  for 
[53] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

two  successive  mornings  on  a  Cadbury's  Cocoa  'bus  to 
Francesca's  dressmaker  in  Kensington.  On  the  third 
morning,  deceived  by  the  ambitious  and  unscrupulous 
Cadbury,  we  mounted  it  and  journeyed  along  comfort- 
ably three  miles  to  the  east  of  Kensington  before  we 
discovered  our  mistake.  It  was  a  pleasant  and  at- 
tractive neighborhood  where  we  found  ourselves,  but 
unfortunately  Francesca's  dressmaker  did  not  reside 
there. 

If  you  have  determined  to  make  a  certain  train  from 
a  certain  station,  and  do  not  care  for  any  other,  no  mat- 
ter if  it  should  turn  out  to  be  just  as  interesting,  then 
never  take  a  Lipton's  Tea  'bus,  for  it  is  the  most  unre- 
liable of  all.  If  it  did  not  sound  so  learned,  and  if  I 
did  not  feel  that  it  must  have  been  said  before,  it  is 
so  apt,  I  should  quote  Horace  and  say,  "  Omnibus  hoc 
vitium  est."  There  is  no  'bus  unseized  by  the  Napo- 
leonic Lipton.  Do  not  ascend  one  of  them  supposing 
for  a  moment  that  by  paying  fourpence  and  going  to 
the  very  end  of  the  route  you  will  come  to  a  neat  tea 
station,  where  you  will  be  served  with  the  cheering  cup. 
Never ;  nor  with  a  draught  of  Cadbury's  cocoa  or  Nes- 
tle's  milk,  although  you  have  jostled  along  for  nine 
weary  miles  in  company  with  their  blatant  recommen- 
dations to  drink  nothing  else,  and  though  you  may  have 
passed  other  'buses  with  the  same  highly  colored  names 
glaring  at  you  until  they  are  burned  into  the  gray  mat- 
[54] 


TUPPENNY    TRAVELS    IN    LONDON 

ter  of  your  brain,  to  remain  there  as  long  as  the  copy- 
book maxims  you/penned  when  you  were  a  child. 

These  pictorial  methods  may  prove  a  source  of  great 
financial  gain ;  of  course  it  must  be  so,  or  they  would 
never  be  prosecuted;  but  although  they  may  allure 
millions  of  customers,  they  will  lose  two  in  our  modest 
persons.  When  Salemina  and  I  go  into  a  cafe  for  tea 
we  ask  the  young  women  if  they  serve  Lipton's,  and  if 
they  say  yes,  we  take  coffee.  This  is  self-punishment 
indeed  (in  London !),  but  we  feel  that  it  may  have  a 
moral  effect ;  perhaps  not  commensurate  with  the  phy- 
sical effect  of  the  coffee  upon  us,  but  these  delicate 
matters  can  never  be  adjusted  with  absolute  exactitude. 

Sometimes  when  we  are  to  travel  on  a  Pears'  Soap 
'bus  we  buy  beforehand  a  bit  of  pure  white  Castile,  cut 
from  a  shrinking,  reserved,  exclusive  bar  with  no  name 
upon  it,  and  present  it  to  some  poor  woman  when  we 
arrive  at  our  journey's  end.  We  do  not  suppose  that 
so  insignificant  a  protest  does  much  good,  but  at  least 
it  preserves  one's  individuality  and  self-respect. 


[55] 


ON  one  of  our  excursions  Hilda  Mellifica  accompa- 
nied us,  and  we  alighted  to  see  the  place  where  the 
Smithfield  martyrs  were  executed,  apd  to  visit  some  of 
the  very  old  churches  in  that  vicinity.  We  found 
hanging  in  the  vestibule  of  one  of  them  something 
quite  familiar  to  Hilda,  but  very  strange  to  our  Ameri- 
can eyes  :  "  A  Table  of  Kindred  and  Affinity,  wherein 
whosoever  are  related  are  forbidden  in  Scripture  and 
our  Laws  to  Marry  Together." 
[56] 


A    TABLE    OF    KINDRED    AND    AFFINITY 

Salemina  was  very  quiet  that  afternoon,  and  we  ac- 
cused her  afterward  of  being  depressed  because  she  had 
discovered  that,  added  to  the  battalions  of  men  in  Eng- 
land who  had  not  thus  far  urged  her  to  marry  them, 
there  were  thirty  persons  whom  she  could  not  legally 
espouse  even  if  they  did  ask  her ! 

I  cannot  explain  it,  but  it  really  seemed  in  some  way 
that  our  chances  of  a  "  sweet,  safe  corner  of  the  house- 
hold fire  "  had  materially  decreased  when  we  had  read 
the  table. 

"  It  only  goes  to  prove  what  Salemina  remarked  yes- 
terday," I  said  :  "  that  we  can  go  on  doing  a  thing  quite 
properly  until  we  have  seen  the  rule  for  it  printed  in 
black  and  white.  The  moment  we  read  the  formula 
we  fail  to  see  how  we  could  ever  have  followed  it ;  we 
are  confused  by  its  complexities,  and  we  do  not  feel  the 
slightest  confidence  in  our  ability  to  do  consciously  the 
thing  we  have  done  all  our  lives  unconsciously." 

"  Like  the  centipede,"  quoted  Salemina. 

"  '  The  centipede  was  happy  quite 
Until  the  toad,  for  fun, 
Said,  Pray  which  leg  goes  after  which  ? 
Which  wrought  his  mind  to  such  a  pitch, 
He  lay  distracted  in  a  ditch, 
Considering  how  to  run  ! '  " 

"  The  Table  of  Kindred  and  Affinity  is  all  too  famil- 
iar to  me,"  sighed  Hilda,  "  because  we  had  a  governess 
[57] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

who  made  us  learn  it  as  a  punishment.  I  suppose  I 
could  recite  it  now,  although  I  have  n't  looked  at  it  for 
ten  years.  We  used  to  chant  it  in  the  nursery  school- 
room on  wet  afternoons.  I  well  remember  that  the 
vicar  called  one  day  to  see  us,  and  the  governess,  hear- 
ing our  voices  uplifted  in  a  pious  measure,  drew  him 
under  the  window  to  listen.  This  is  what  he  heard,  — 
you  will  see  how  admirably  it  goes !  And  do  not  im- 
agine it  is  wicked :  it  is  merely  the  Law,  not  the 
Gospel,  and  we  framed  our  own  musical  settings,  so 
that  we  had  no  associations  with  the  Prayer  Book." 

Here  Hilda  chanted  softly,  there  being  no  one  in  the 
old  churchyard :  — 

"  A  woman  may  not  marry  with  her  Grandfather  | 
Grandmother's  Husband,  Husband's  Grandfather  ||  Fa- 
ther's   Brother  |  Mother's     Brother  |  Father's    Sister's 
Husband  ||  Mother's  Sister's  Husband  |  Husband's  Fa- 
ther's Brother  |  Husband's  Mother's  Brother  ||  Father  | 
Step-Father    |    Husband's    Father    ||   Son  |   Husband's 
Son  |  Daughter's  Husband  ||  Brother  |  Husband's  Bro- 
ther |  Sister's  Husband  ||  Son's  Son  |  Daughter's  Son  | 
Son's   Daughter's    Husband    ||    Daughter's   Daughter's 
Husband  |  Husband's  Son's  Son  |  Husband's  Daughter's 
Son  ||  Brother's  Son  |  Sister's  Son  |  Brother's  Daughter's 
Husband   ||   Sister's   Daughter's    Husband  |  Husband's 
Brother's  Son  |  Husband's  Sister's  Son." 

"  It  seems  as  if  there  were  nobody  left,"  I  said  dis- 
[58] 


A    TABLE    OF    KINDRED    AND    AFFINITY 

consolately,  "  save  perhaps  your  Second  Cousin's  Uncle, 
or  your  Enemy's  Dearest  Friend." 

"That's  just  the  effect  it  has  on  one,"  answered 
Hilda.  "  We  always  used  to  conclude  our  chant  with 
the  advice :  — 

"  And  if  there  is  anybody,  after  this,  in  the  universe  | 
left  to  |  marry  ||  marry  him  as  expeditiously  |  as  you  | 
possibly  |  can  ||  Because  there  are  very  few  husbands 
omitted  from  this  table  of  |  Kindred  and  |  Affinity  || 
And  it  behooveth  a  maiden  to  snap  them  up  without 
any  delay  |  willing  or  unwilling  |  whenever  and  |  wher- 
ever found. 

"  We  were  also  required  to  learn  by  heart  the  form  of 
Prayer  with  Thanksgiving  to  be  used  Yearly  upon  the 
Fifth  Day  of  November  for  the  happy  deliverance  of 
King  James  I.  and  the  Three  Estates  of  England  from 
the  most  traitorous  and  bloody-intended  Massacre  by 
Gunpowder;  also  the  prayers  for  Charles  the  Martyr 
and  the  Thanksgiving  for  having  put  an  end  to  the 
Great  Rebellion  by  the  Restitution  of  the  King  and 
Royal  Family  after  many  Years'  interruption  which  un- 
speakable Mercies  were  wonderfully  completed  upon 
the  29th  of  May  in  the  year  1660." 

"  1660  !     We  had  been  forty  years  in  America  then," 

soliloquized    Francesca ;    "  and  is  n't   it   odd  that  the 

long  thanksgivings  in  our  country  must  all  have  been 

for  having  successfully  run  away  from  the  Gunpowder 

[59] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Treason,  King  Charles  the  Martyr,  and  the  Restituted 
Royal  Family ;  yet  here  we  are,  you  and  I,  the  best  of 
friends,  talking  it  all  over." 

As  we  jog  along,  or  walk,  by  turns,  we  come  to  Buck- 
ingham Street,  and  looking  up  at  Alfred  Jingle's  lodg- 
ings say  a  grateful  word  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  We  tell 
each  other  that  much  of  what  we  know  of  London  and 
England  seems  to  have  been  learned  from  Dickens. 

Deny  him  the  right  to  sit  among  the  elect,  if  you 
will ;  talk  of  his  tendency  to  farce  and  caricature ; 
call  his  humor  low  comedy,  and  his  pathos  bathos,  — 
although  you  shall  say  none  of  these  things  in  my 
presence  unchallenged;  the  fact  remains  that  every 
child,  in  America  at  least,  knows  more  of  England,  — 
its  almshouses,  debtors'  prisons,  and  law  courts,  its  vil- 
lages and  villagers,  its  beadles  and  cheap-jacks  and 
hostlers  and  coachmen  and  boots,  its  streets  and  lanes, 
its  lodgings  and  inns  and  landladies  and  roast  beef 
and  plum  pudding,  its  ways,  manners,  and  customs,  — 
knows  more  of  these  things  and  a  thousand  others  from 
Dickens's  novels,  than  from  all  the  histories,  geogra- 
phies, biographies,  and  essays  in  the  language.  Where 
is  there  another  novelist  who  has  so  peopled  a  great 
city  with  his  imaginary  characters  that  there  is  hardly 
room  for  the  living  population,  as  one  walks  along  the 
ways? 

Oh,  these  streets  of  London !  There  are  other  more 
[60] 


A    TABLE    OF    KINDRED    AND    AFFINITY 

splendid  shades  in  them,  —  shades  that  have  been  there 
for  centuries,  and  will  walk  beside  us  so  long  as  the 
streets  exist.  One  can  never  see  these  shades,  save  as 
one  goes  on  foot,  or  takes  that  chariot  of  the  humble, 
the  omnibus.  I  should  like  to  make  a  map  of  literary 
London  somewhat  after  Leigh  Hunt's  plan,  as  projected 
in  his  essay  on  the  World  of  Books  ;  for  to  the  book- 
lover  "  the  poet's  hand  is  always  on  the  place,  blessing 
it."  One  can  no  more  separate  the  association  from 
the  particular  spot  than  one  can  take  away  from  it  any 
other  beauty. 

"  Fleet  Street  is  always  Johnson's  Fleet  Street "  (so 
Leigh  Hunt  says)  ;  "  the  Tower  belongs  to  Julius  Ceesar, 
and  Blackfriars  to  Suckling,  Vandyke,  and  the  Dunciad. 
...  I  can  no  more  pass  through  Westminster  without 
thinking  of  Milton,  or  the  Borough  without  thinking  of 
Chaucer  and  Shakespeare,  or  Gray's  Inn  without  calling 
Bacon  to  mind,  or  Bloomsbury  Square  without  Steele 
and  Akenside,  than  I  can  prefer  brick  and  mortar  to 
wit  and  poetry,  or  not  see  a  beauty  upon  it  beyond 
architecture  in  the  splendor  of  the  recollection." 


[61] 


All  the  silver-sellers  had 
called  at  the  same  hour 


FBANCESCA  wishes  to  get  some  old  hall-marked  silver 
for  her  home  tea-tray,  and  she  is  absorbed  at  present  in 
answering  advertisements  of  people  who  have  second- 
hand pieces  for  sale,  and  who  offer  to  bring  them  on 
approval.  The  other  day,  when  Willie  Beresford  and  I 
came  in  from  Westminster  Abbey  (where  we  had  been 
choosing  the  best  locations  for  our  memorial  tablets), 
we  thought  Francesca  must  be  giving  a  "  small  and 
early ; "  but  it  transpired  that  all  the  silver-sellers  had 
called  at  the  same  hour,  and  it  took  the  united  strength 
of  Dawson  and  Mr.  Beresford,  together  with  my  diplo- 
macy, to  rescue  the  poor  child  from  their  clutches. 
She  came  out  alive,  but  her  safety  was  purchased  at 


APROPOS    OF   ADVERTISEMENTS 

the  cost  of  a  George  IV.  cream  jug,  an  Elizabethan 
sugar  bowl,  and  a  Boadicea  tea  caddy,  which  were,  I 
doubt  not,  manufactured  in  Wardour  Street  towards  the 
close  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

Salemina  came  in  just  then,  cold  and  tired.  (Tower 
and  National  Gallery  the  same  day.  It 's  so  much 
more  work  to  go  to  the  Tower  nowadays  than  it  used  to 
be  !)  We  had  intended  to  take  a  sail  to  Eichmond  on  a 
penny  steamboat,  but  it  was  drizzling,  so  we  had  a  cosy 
fire  instead,  slipped  into  our  tea-gowns,  and  ordered  tea 
and  thin  bread  and  butter,  a  basket  of  strawberries  with 
their  frills  on,  and  a  jug  of  Devonshire  cream.  Willie 
Beresford  asked  if  he  might  stay  ;  otherwise,  he  said, 
he  should  have  to  sit  at  a  cold  marble  table  on  the 
corner  of  Bond  Street  and  Piccadilly,  and  take  his  tea 
in  bachelor  solitude. 

"  Yes,"  I  said  severely,  "  we  will  allow  you  to  stay ; 
although,  as  you  are  coming  to  dinner,  I  should  think 
you  would  have  to  go  away  some  time,  if  only  in  order 
that  you  might  get  ready  to  come  back.  You  've  been 
here  since  breakfast  time." 

"  I  know,"  he  answered  calmly,  "  and  my  only  error 
in  judgment  was  that  I  did  n't  take  an  earlier  breakfast, 
in  order  to  begin  my  day  here  sooner.  One  has  to 
snatch  a  moment  when  he  can,  nowadays ;  for  these 
rooms  are  so  infested  with  British  swells  that  a  base- 
born  American  stands  very  little  chance ! " 
[63] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Now  I  should  like  to  know  if  Willie  Beresford  is  in 
love  with  Francesca.  What  shall  I  do  —  that  is,  what 
shall  we  do  —  if  he  is,  when  she  thinks  she  is  in  love 
with  somebody  else  ?  To  be  sure,  she  may  want  one 
lover  for  foreign  and  another  for  domestic  service.  He 
is  too  old  for  her,  but  that  is  always  the  way.  When 
Alcides,  having  gone  through  all  the  fatigues  of  life, 
took  a  bride  in  Olympus,  he  ought  to  have  selected 
Minerva,  but  he  chose  Hebe. 

I  wonder  why  so  many  people  call  him  "  Willie " 
Beresford,  at  his  age.  Perhaps  it  is  because  his  mother 
sets  the  example ;  but  from  her  lips  it  does  not  seem 
amiss.  I  suppose  when  she  looks  at  him  she  recalls 
the  past,  and  is  ever  seeing  the  little  child  in  the  strong 
man,  mother  fashion.  It  is  very  beautiful,  that  feeling ; 
and  when  a  girl  surprises  it  in  any  mother's  eyes  it 
makes  her  heart  beat  faster,  as  in  the  presence  of  some- 
thing sacred,  which  she  can  understand  only  because 
she  is  a  woman,  and  experience  is  foreshadowed  in  in- 
tuition. 

The  Honorable  Arthur  had  sent  us  a  dozen  London 
dailies  and  weeklies,  and  we  fell  into  an  idle  discussion 
of  their  contents  over  the  teacups.  I  had  found  an 
"  exchange  column  "  which  was  as  interesting  as  it  was 
novel,  and  I  told  Francesca  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  we 
managed  wisely  we  could  rid  ourselves  of  all  our  useless 
belongings,  and  gradually  amass  a  collection  of  the 
[64] 


APROPOS    OF    ADVERTISEMENTS 

English  articles  we  most  desired.  "  Here  is  an  oppor- 
tunity, for  instance,"  I  said,  and  I  read  aloud,  — 

"  '  S.  G.,  of  Kensington,  will  post  '  Woman '  three 
days  old  regularly  for  a  box  of  cut  flowers.'  " 

"  Rather  young,"  said  Mr.  Beresford,  "  or  I  'd  answer 
that  advertisement  myself." 

I  wanted  to  tell  him  I  did  n't  suppose  that  he  could 
find  anything  too  young  for  his  taste,  but  I  didn't 
dare. 

"  Salemina  adores  cats,"  I  went  on.  "  How  is  this, 
Sally,  dear  ?  — 

"  '  A  handsome  orange  male  Persian  cat,  also  a  tabby, 
immense  coat,  brushes  and  frills,  is  offered  in  exchange 
for  an  electro-plated  revolving  covered  dish  or  an  Allen's 
Vapor  Bath.'  " 

"  I  should  like  the  cat,  but  alas !  I  have  no  covered 
dish,"  sighed  Salemina. 

"Buy  one,"  suggested  Mr.  Beresford.  "Even  then 
you  'd  be  getting  a  bargain.  Do  you  understand  that 
you  receive  the  male  orange  cat  for  the  dish,  and  the 
frilled  tabby  for  the  bath,  or  do  you  get  both  in  ex- 
change for  either  of  these  articles  ?  Eead  on,  Miss 
Hamilton." 

"  Very  well,  here  is  one  for  Francesca  :  — 

"  '  A  harmonium  with  seven  stops  is  offered  in  exchange 
for  a  really  good  Plymouth  cockerel  hatched  in  May.' " 

"  I  should  want  to  know  when  the  harmonium  was 
[65] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

hatched,"  said  Francesca  prudently.  "  Now  you  cannot 
usurp  the  platform  entirely,  my  dear  Pen.  Listen  to 
an  English  marriage  notice  from  the  '  Times.'  It 
chances  to  be  the  longest  one  to-day,  but  there  were 
others  just  as  remarkable  in  yesterday's  issue. 

" '  On  the  17th  instant,  at  Emmanuel  Church 
(Countess  of  Padelford's  connection),  Weston-super- 
Mare,  by  the  Eev.  Canon  Vernon,  B.  D.,  Rector  of  St. 
Edmund  the  King  and  Martyr,  Suffolk  Street,  uncle  of 
bride,  assisted  by  the  Eev.  Otho  Pelham,  M.  A.,  Vicar 
of  All  Saints,  Upper  Norwood,  Dr.  Philosophial  Kori- 
rad  Kasch,  of  Koetzsenbroda,  Saxony,  to  Evelyn  Whit- 
aker  Eake,  widow  of  the  late  Richard  Balaclava  Eake, 
Barrister-at-law  of  the  Inner  Temple  and  Bombay,  and 
third  surviving  daughter  of  George  Frederic  Goldspink, 
C.  B.,  of  Sydenham  House,  Craig  Hill,  Commissioner  of 
her  Majesty's  Customs,  and  formerly  of  the  War 
Office.'" 

By  the  time  this  was  finished  we  were  all  quite  ex- 
hausted, but  we  revived  like  magic  when  Salemina  read 
us  her  contribution  :  — 

" '  A  NAME  ENSHRINED  IN  LITERATURE  AND  RE- 
NOWNED IN  COMMERCE,  — Miss  Willard,  Waddington, 
Essex.  Deal  with  her  whenever  you  possibly  can. 
When  you  want  to  purchase,  ask  her  for  anything 
under  the  canopy  of  heaven,  from  jewels,  bijouterie,  and 
curios  to  rare  books  and  high-class  articles  of  utility. 
[66] 


APROPOS    OF    ADVERTISEMENTS 

When  you  want  to  sell,  consign  only  to  her,  from  choice 
gems  to  mundane  objects.  All  transactions  embodying 
the  germs  of  small  profits  are  welcome.  As  a  sample 
of  her  stock  please  note  :  A  superlatively  exquisite,  es- 
sentially beautiful,  and  important  lace  flounce  for  sale, 
at  a  reasonable  price.  Also  a  bargain  of  peerlessly 
choice  character.  —  Six  grandly  glittering  paste  cluster 
buttons,  of  important  size,  emitting  dazzling  rays  of 
incomparable  splendour  and  lustre.  Don't  readily  for- 
get this  or  her  name  and  address,  —  Clara  (Miss)  Wil- 
lard  (the  Lady  Trader),  Waddington,  Essex.  Immacu- 
late promptitude  and  scrupulous  liberality  observed  : 
therefore,  on  these  credentials,  ye  must  deal  with  her ; 
it  is  the  duty  of  intellect  to  be  reciprocal.' " 

Just  here  Dawson  entered,  evidently  to  lay  the  dinner- 
cloth,  but,  seeing  that  we  had  a  visitor,  he  took  the  tea- 
tray  and  retired  discreetly. 

"  It  is  five  and  thirty  minutes  past  six,  Mr.  Beresford," 
I  said.  "  Do  you  think  you  can  get  to  the  Metropole 
and  array  yourself  and  return  in  less  than  an  hour  ? 
Because,  even  if  you  can,  remember  that  we  ladies  have 
elaborate  toilets  in  prospect,  —  toilets  intended  for  the 
complete  prostration  of  the  British  gentry.  Francesca 
has  a  yellow  gown  which  will  drive  Bertie  Godolphin 
to  madness.  Salemina  has  laid  out  a  soft,  dovelike 
gray  and  steel  combination,  directed  towards  the  Church 
of  England ;  for  you  may  not  know  that  Sally  has  a 
[67] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

vicar  in  her  train,  Mr.  Beresford,  and  he  will  probably 
speak  to-night.  As  for  me  "  — 

Before  these  shocking  personalities  were  finished 
Salemina  and  Francesca  had  fled  to  their  rooms,  and 
Mr.  Beresford  took  up  my  broken  sentence  and  said, 
"  As  for  you,  Miss  Hamilton,  whatever  gown  you  wear, 
you  are  sure  to  make  one  man  speak,  if  you  care  about 
it ;  but  I  suppose  you  would  not  listen  to  him  unless  he 
were  English ;  "  and  with  that  shot  he  departed. 

I  really  think  I  shall  have  to  give  up  the  Francesca 
hypothesis,  and,  alas  !  I  am  not  quite  ready  to  adopt 
any  other. 

We  discussed  international  marriages  while  we  were 
at  our  toilets,  Salemina  and  I  prinking  by  the  light  of 
one  small  candle-end,  while  Francesca,  as  the  youngest 
and  prettiest,  illuminated  her  charms  with  the  six  sit- 
ting-room candles  and  three  filched  from  the  little  table 
in  the  hall. 

I  gave  it  as  my  humble  opinion  that  for  an  American 
woman  an  English  husband  was  at  least  an  experiment ; 
Salemina  declared  that  for  that  matter  a  husband  of 
any  nationality  was  an  experiment.  Francesca  ended  the 
conversation  flippantly  by  saying  that  in  her  judgment  no 
husband  at  all  was  a  much  more  hazardous  experiment. 


[68] 


he  old  gentleman  .  .  . 
need-  him  breathlessly 


WE  are  all  three  rather  tired  this  morning,  —  Sale- 
mina,  Francesca,  and  I,  —  for  we  went  to  one  of  the 
smartest  balls  of  the  London  season  last  night,  and 
were  robbed  of  half  our  customary  allowance  of  sleep 
in  consequence. 

It  may  be  difficult  for  you  to  understand  our  weari- 
ness, when  I  confess  that  the  ball  was  not  quite  of  the 
usual  sort ;  that  we  did  not  dance  at  all ;  and,  what  is 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

worse,  that  we  were  not  asked,  either  to  tread  a  mea- 
sure, or  sit  out  a  polka,  or  take  "  one  last  turn." . 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  there  is  a  large  vacant 
house  directly  opposite  Smith's  Private  Hotel,  and  there 
has  been  hanging  from  its  balcony,  until  very  lately,  a 
sign  bearing  the  following  notice  :  — 

THESE  COMMANDING  PREMISES 
WITH  A  SUPERFICIAL  AREA  OK 

10000  FT.  AND  50  FT. 

FRONTAGE  TO  DOVERMARLE  ST. 

WILL  BE  SOLD  BY  AUCTION 

ON  TUESDAY  JUNE  28TH  BY 

MESSRS.  SKIDDY,  YADDLETHORPE  AND  SKIDDY 

LAND  AGENTS  AND  SURVEYORS 

27,  HASTINGS  PLACE,  PALL  MALL 

A  few  days  ago,  just  as  we  were  finishing  a  late 
breakfast,  an  elderly  gentleman  drove  up  in  a  private 
hansom,  and  alighted  at  this  vacant  house  on  the  oppo- 
site side.  Behind  him,  in  a  cab,  came  two  men,  who 
unlocked  the  front  door,  went  in,  came  out  on  the 
balcony,  cut  the  wires  supporting  the  sign,  took  it 
down,  opened  all  the  inside  shutters,  and  disappeared 
through  some  rear  entrance.  The  elderly  gentleman 
went  up-stairs  for  a  moment,  came  down  again,  and 
drove  away. 

"  The  house  has  been  sold,  I  suppose,"  said  Salemina ; 
"  and  for  my  part,  I  envy  the  new  owner  his  bargain. 
He  is  close  to  Piccadilly,  has  that  bit  of  side  lawn  with 
[70] 


THE    BALL    ON    THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

the  superb  oak  tree,  and  the  duke's  beautiful  gardens 
so  near  that  they  will  seem  virtually  his  own  when  he 
looks  from  his  upper  windows." 

A.t  tea  time  the  same  elderly  gentleman  drove  up  in 
a  victoria,  with  a  very  pretty  young  lady. 

"  The  plot  thickens,"  said  Francesca,  who  was  nearest 
the  window.  "  Do  you  suppose  she  is  his  bride  elect, 
and  is  he  showing  her  their  future  home,  or  is  she 
already  his  wife  ?  If  so,  I  fear  me  she  married  him 
for  his  title  and  estates,  for  he  is  more  than  a  shade  too 
old  for  her." 

"Don't  be  censorious,  child,"  I  remonstrated,  taking 
my  cup  idly  across  the  room,  to  be  nearer  the  scene  of 
action.  "  Oh,  dear !  there  is  a  slight  discrepancy,  I 
confess ;  but  I  can  explain  it.  This  is  how  it  happened  : 
The  girl  had  never  really  loved,  and  did  not  know  what 
the  feeling  was.  She  did  know  that  the  aged  suitor 
was  a  good  and  worthy  man,  and  her  mother  and  nine 
small  brothers  and  sisters  (very  much  out  at  the  toes) 
urged  the  marriage.  The  father,  too,  had  speculated 
heavily  in  consorts  or  consuls,  or  whatever-you-call-'ems, 
and  besought  his  child  not  to  expose  his  defalcations 
and  losses.  She,  dutiful  girl,  did  as  she  was  bid,  espe- 
cially as  her  youngest  sister  came  to  her  in  tears  and 
said,  <  Unless  you  consent,  we  shall  have  to  sell  the 
cow ! '  So  she  went  to  the  altar  with  a  heart  full  of 
palpitating  respect,  but  no  love  to  speak  of ;  that  always 
[71] 


PENELOPE'S    EXPERENICES 

comes  in  time  to  heroines  who  sacrifice  themselves  and 
spare  the  cows." 

"  It  sounds  strangely  familiar,"  remarked  Mr.  Beres- 
ford,  who  was  with  us,  as  usual.  "  Did  n't  a  fellow 
turn  up  in  the  next  chapter,  a  young  nephew  of  the  old 
husband,  who  fell  in  love  with  the  bride,  unconsciously 
and  against  his  will  ?  Was  n't  she  obliged  to  take  him 
into  the  conservatory  at  the  end  of  a  week,  and  say, 
'  G-go  !  I  beseech  you !  for  b-both  our  sakes  ! '  ?  Did  n't 
the  noble  fellow  wring  her  hand  silently,  and  leave  her 
looking  like  a  broken  lily  on  the  "  — 

"  How  can  you  be  so  cynical,  Mr.  Beresford  ?  It 
is  n't  like  you  !  "  exclaimed  Salemina.  "  For  my  part, 
I  don't  think  the  girl  is  either  his  bride  or  his  fiancee. 
Probably  the  mother  of  the  family  is  dead,  and  the 
father  is  bringing  his  eldest  daughter  to  look  at  the 
house :  that 's  my  idea  of  it." 

This  theory  being  just  as  plausible  as  ours,  we  did 
not  discuss  it,  hoping  that  something  would  happen  to 
decide  the  matter  in  one  way  or  another. 

"  She  is  not  married,  I  am  sure,"  went  on  Salemina, 
leaning  over  the  back  of  my  chair.  "  You  notice  that 
she  has  n't  given  a  glance  at  the  kitchen  or  the  range, 
although  they  are  the  most  important  features  of  the 
house.  I  think  she  may  have  just  put  her  head  inside 
the  dining-room  door,  but  she  certainly  didn't  give  a 
moment  to  the  butler's  pantry  or  the  china  closet. 
[72] 


THE    BALL    ON    THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

You  will  find  that  she  won't  mount  to  the  fifth  floor  to 
see  how  the  servants  are  housed,  —  not  she,  careless, 
pretty  creature ;  she  will  go  straight  to  the  drawing- 
room." 

And  so  she  did ;  and  at  the  same  instant  a  still 
younger  and  prettier  creature  drove  up  in  a  hansom, 
and  was  out  of  it  almost  before  the  admiring  cabby 
could  stop  his  horse  or  reach  down  for  his  fare.  She 
flew  up  the  stairway,  and  danced  into  the  drawing-room 
like  a  young  whirlwind ;  flung  open  doors,  pulled  up 
blinds  with  a  jerk,  letting  in  the  sunlight  everywhere, 
and  tiptoed  to  and  fro  over  the  dusty  floors,  holding  up 
her  muslin  flounces  daintily. 

"  This  must  be  the  daughter  of  his  first  marriage,"  I 
remarked. 

"  Who  will  not  get  on  with  the  young  stepmother," 
finished  Mr.  Beresford. 

"  It  is  his  youngest  daughter,"  corrected  Salemina,  — 
"  the  youngest  daughter  of  his  only  wife,  and  the  image 
of  her  deceased  mother,  who  was,  in  her  time,  the  belle 
of  Dublin." 

She  might  well  have  been  that,  we  all  agreed ;  for 
this  young  beauty  was  quite  the  Irish  type,  such  black 
hair,  gray-blue  eyes,  and  wonderful  lashes,  and  such  a 
merry,  arch,  winsome  face  that  one  loved  her  on  the 
instant. 

She  was  delighted  with  the  place,  and  we  did  not 
[73] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

wonder,  for  the  sunshine,  streaming  in  at  the  back  and 
side  windows,  showed  us  rooms  of  noble  proportions 
opening  into  one  another.  She  admired  the  balcony, 
although  we  thought  it  too  public  to  be  of  any  use  save 
for  flowering  plants;  she  was  pleased  with  a  huge 
French  mirror  over  the  marble  mantel ;  she  liked  the 
chandeliers,  which  were  in  the  worst  possible  taste  ;  all 
this  we  could  tell  by  her  expressive  gestures  ;  and  she 
finally  seized  the  old  gentleman  by  the  lapels  of  his 
coat  and  danced  him  breathlessly  from  the  fireplace  to 
the  windows  and  back  again,  while  the  elder  girl  clapped 
her  hands  and  laughed. 

"  Is  n't  she  lovely  ?  "  sighed  Francesca,  a  little  covet- 
ously, although  she  is  something  of  a  beauty  herself. 

."I   am  sorry  that  her  name  is  Bridget,"  said  Mr. 
Beresford. 

"  For  shame  !  "  I  cried  indignantly.  "  It  is  Norah, 
or  Veronica,  or  Geraldine,  or  Patricia ;  yes,  it  is  Pa- 
tricia,—  I  know  it  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  at  the 
christening.  —  Dawson,  take  the  tea  things,  please  ;  and 
do  you  know  the  name  of  the  gentleman  who  has 
bought  the  house  on  the  opposite  side  ?  " 

"  It  is  Lord  Bright'on,  miss."  (You  would  never  be- 
lieve it,  but  we  find  the  name  is  spelled  Brighthelmston.) 
"He  hasn't  bought  the  'ouse;  he  has  taken  it  for  a 
week,  and  is  giving  a  ball  there  on  the  Tuesday  evening. 
He  has  four  daughters,  miss,  and  two  h' orphan  nieces  that 
[74] 


THE    BALL    ON    THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

generally  spends  the  season  with  'im.  It 's  the  young- 
est daughter  he  is  bringing  out,  that  lively  one  you  saw 
cutting  about  just  now.  They  'ave  no  ballroom  I 
expect,  in  their  town'ouse,  which  accounts  for  their 
renting  one  for  this  occasion.  They  stopped  a  month 
in  this  'otel  last  year,  so  I  have  the  honor  of  m'lud's 
acquaintance." 

"  Lady  Brighthelmston  is  not  living,  I  should  judge," 
remarked  Salemina,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  thinks  it 
hardly  worth  while  to  ask. 

"  Oh,  yes,  miss,  she 's  alive  and  'earty ;  but  the 
daughters  manages  everythink,  and  what  they  down't 
manage  the  h'orphan  nieces  does.  The  'ouse  is  run  for 
the  young  ladies,  but  m'ludanlady  seems  to  enjoy  it." 

Dovermarle  Street  was  so  interesting  during  the  next 
few  days  that  we  could  scarcely  bear  to  leave  it,  lest 
something  exciting  should  happen  in  our  absence. 

"  A  ball  is  so  confining !  "  said  Francesca,  who  had 
come  back  from  the  corner  of  Piccadilly  to  watch  the 
unloading  of  a  huge  van,  and  found  that  it  had  no  in- 
tention of  stopping  at  Number  Nine  on  the  opposite 
side. 

First  came  a  small  army  of  charwomen,  who  scrubbed 
the  house  from  top  to  bottom.  Then  came  men  with 
canvas  for  floors,  bronzes  and  jardinieres  and  some- 
body's family  portraits  from  an  auction  room,  chairs 
and  sofas  and  draperies  from  an  upholsterer's. 
[75] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

The  night  before  the  event  itself  I  announced  my  in- 
tention of  staying  in  our  own  drawing-room  the  whole 
of  the  next  day.  "  I  am  more  interested  in  Patricia's 
debut,"  I  said,  "  than  in  anything  else  that  can  possibly 
happen  in  London.  What  if  it  should  be  wet,  and 
won't  it  be  annoying  if  it  is  a  cold  night  and  they  draw 
the  heavy  curtains  together  ?  " 

But  it  was  a  beautiful  day,  almost  too  warm  for  a 
ball,  and  the  heavy  curtains  were  not  drawn.  The 
family  did  not  court  observation ;  it  was  serenely  un- 
conscious of  such  a  thing.  As  to  our  side  of  the  street, 
I  think  we  may  have  been  the  only  people  at  all  inter- 
ested in  the  affair  now  so  imminent.  The  others  had 
something  more  sensible  to  do,  I  fancy,  than  patching 
up  romances  about  their  neighbors. 

At  noon  the  florists  decorated  the  entrance  with  palms, 
covered  the  balcony  with  a  gay  awning,  and  hung  the 
railing  with  brilliant  masses  of  scarlet  and  yellow 
flowers.  At  two  the  caterers  sent  silver,  tables,  linen, 
and  dishes,  and  a  Broadwood  grand  piano  was  installed ; 
but  at  half  past  seven,  when  we  sat  down  to  dinner,  we 
were  a  trifle  anxious,  because  so  many  things  seemed 
yet  to  do  before  the  party  could  be  a  complete  success. 

Mr.  Beresford  and  his  mother  were  dining  with  us, 
and  we  had  sent  invitations  to  our  London  friends,  the 
Hon.  Arthur  Ponsonby  and  Bertie  Godolphin,  to  come 
later  in  the  evening.     These  read  as  follows  :  — 
[76] 


A  small  army  of  charwomen 


[77] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Private  View. 
The  pleasure  of  your  company  is  requested 

at  the  coming-out  party  of 
The  Hon.  Patricia  Brighthelmston 

July 189- 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
Dancing  about  10.30.  9,  Dovermarle  Street. 

At  eight  o'clock,  as  we  were  finishing  our  fish  course, 
which  chanced  to  be  fried  sole,  the  ball  began  literally 
to  roll,  and  it  required  the  greatest  ingenuity  on  Fran- 
cesca's  part  and  mine  to  be  always  down  in  our  seats 
when  Dawson  entered  with  the  dishes,  and  always  at 
the  window  when  he  was  absent. 

An  enormous  van  had  appeared,  with  half  a  dozen 
men  walking  behind  it.  In  a  trice,  two  of  them  had 
stretched  a  wire  trellis  across  one  wall  of  the  drawing- 
room,  and  two  more  were  trailing  roses  from  floor  to 
ceiling.  Others  tied  the  dark  wood  of  the  stair  railing 
with  tall  Madonna  lilies  ;  then  they  hung  garlands  of 
flowers  from  corner  to  corner  and,  alas,  could  not  re- 
frain from  framing  the  mirror  in  smilax,  nor  from  hang- 
ing the  chandeliers  with  that  same  ugly,  funereal,  and 
artificial-looking  vine,  —  this  idea  being  the  principal 
stock  in  trade  of  every  florist  in  the  universe. 

We   could   not   catch  even  a  glimpse  of  the  supper 

rooms,  but  we  saw  a  man  in  the  fourth-story  front  room 

filling  dozens  of  little  glass  vases,  each  with  its  single 

malmaison,  rose,  or  camellia,  and  dispatching  them  by 

[78] 


THE    BALL   ON   THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

an  assistant  to  another  part  of  the  house ;  so  we  could 
imagine  from  this  the  scheme  of  decoration  at  the  tables. 
—  No,  not  new,  perhaps,  but  simple  and  effective. 

By  the  time  we  had  finished  our  entree,  which  hap- 
pened to  be  lamb  cutlets  and  green  peas,  and  had  begun 
our  roast,  which  was  chicken  and  ham,  I  remember, 
they  had  put  wreaths  at  all  the  windows,  hung  Japanese 
lanterns  on  the  balcony  and  in  the  oak  tree,  and  trans- 
formed the  house  into  a  blossoming  bower. 

At  this  exciting  juncture  Dawson  entered  unexpect- 
edly with  our  sweet,  and  for  the  first  and  only  time 
caught  us  literally  "  red-handed."  Let  British  subjects 
be  interested  in  their  neighbors  if  they  will  (and  when 
they  refrain  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  as  much  indiffer- 
ence as  good  breeding),  but  let  us  never  bring  our  coun- 
try into  disrepute  with  an  English  butler !  As  there 
was  not  a  single  person  at  the  table  when  Dawson  came 
in,  we  were  obliged  to  say  that  we  had  finished  dinner, 
thank  you,  and  would  take  coffee ;  no  sweet  to-night, 
thank  you. 

Willie  Beresford  was  the  only  one  who  minded,  but 
he  rather  likes  cherry  tart.  It  simply  chanced  to  be 
cherry  tart,  for  our  cook  at  Smith's  Private  Hotel  is  a 
person  of  unbridled  fancy  and  endless  repertory.  She 
sometimes,  for  example,  substitutes  rhubarb  for  cherry 
tart  quite  out  of  her  own  head ;  and  when  balked  of  both 
these  dainties,  and  thrown  absolutely  on  her  own  bound- 
[79] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

less  resources,  will  create  a  dish  of  stewed  green  goose- 
berries and  a  companion  piece  of  liquid  custard.  These 
unrelated  concoctions,  when  eaten  at  the  same  moment, 
as  is  her  intention,  always  remind  me  of  the  lying  down 
together  of  the  lion  and  the  lamb,  and  the  scheme  is 
well-nigh  as  dangerous,  under  any  other  circumstances 
than  those  of  the  digestive  millennium.  I  tremble  to 
think  what  would  ensue  if  all  the  rhubarb  and  goose- 
berry bushes  in  England  should  be  uprooted  in  a  single 
night.  I  believe  that  thousands  of  cooks,  those  not  pos- 
sessed of  families  or  Christian  principles,  would  drown 
themselves  in  the  Thames  forthwith,  but  that  is  neither 
here  nor  there,  and  the  Honorable  Arthur  denies  it.  He 
says,  "  Why  commit  suicide  ?  Ain't  there  currants  ?  " 

I  had  forgotten  to  say  that  we  ourselves  were  all  en 
grande  toilette,  down  to  satin  slippers,  feeling  somehow 
that  it  was  the  only  proper  thing  to  do;  and  when 
Dawson  had  cleared  the  table  and  ushered  in  the  other 
visitors,  we  ladies  took  our  coffee  and  the  men  their 
cigarettes  to  the  three  front  windows,  which  were  open 
as  usual  to  our  balcony. 

We  seated  ourselves  there  quite  casually,  as  is  our 
custom,  somewhat  hidden  by  the  lace  draperies  and 
potted  hydrangeas,  and  whatever  we  saw  was  to  be  seen 
by  any  passer-by,  save  that  we  held  the  key  to  the  whole 
story,  and  had  made  it  our  own  by  right  of  conquest. 

Just  at  this  moment  —  it  was  quarter  past  nine, 
[80] 


THE    BALL    ON    THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

although  it  was  still  bright  daylight  —  came  a  little 
procession  of  servants  who  disappeared  within  the 
doors,  and  as  they  donned  caps  and  aprons  would  now 
and  then  reappear  at  the  windows.  Presently  the 
supper  arrived.  We  did  not  know  the  number  of  in- 
vited guests  (there  are  some  things  not  even  revealed  to 
the  Wise  Women),  but  although  we  were  a  trifle  ner- 
vous about  the  amount  of  eatables,  we  were  quite 
certain  that  there  would  be  no  dearth  of  liquid  refresh- 
ment. 

Contemporaneously  with  the  supper  came  a  four- 
wheeler  with  a  man  and  a  woman  in  it. 

Sal.  "  I  wonder  if  that  is  Lord  and  Lady  Bright- 
helmston  ?  " 

Mrs.  B.  "  Nonsense,  my  dear ;  look  at  the  woman's 
dress." 

W.  B.  "  It  is  probably  the  butler,  and  I  have  a  pre- 
monition that  that  is  good  old  Nurse  with  him.  She 
has  been  with  the  family  ever  since  the  birth  of  the 
first  daughter  twenty-four  years  ago.  Look  at  her  cap 
ribbons ;  note  the  fit  of  the  stiff  black  silk  over  her 
comfortable  shoulders  ;  you  can  almost  hear  her  creak 
in  it ! " 

B.  G.  "  My  eye !  but  she  's  one  to  keep  the  goody- 
pot  open  for  the  youngsters  !  She  '11  be  the  belle  of  the 
ball  so  far  as  I  'm  concerned." 

Fran.  "  It 's  impossible  to  tell  whether  it 's  the 
[81] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

butler  or  paterfamilias.  Yes,  it 's  the  butler,  for  he 
has  taken  off  his  coat  and  is  looking  at  the  flowers  with 
the  florist's  assistant." 

B.  G.   "  And  the  florist's  assistant  is  getting  slated 
like  one  o'clock !     The  butler  does  n't  like  the  rum  de- 


The  florist' s  assistant  is 

getting  slated  like  one  o'clock 


sign  over  the  piano ;  no  more  do  I.     Whatever  is  the 
matter  with  them  now  ?  " 

They  were  standing  with  their  faces  towards  us,  ges- 
ticulating wildly  about  something  on  the  front  wall  of 
the  drawing-room  ;  a  place  quite  hidden  from  our  view. 
[82] 


THE    BALL   ON   THE    OPPOSITE    SIDE 

They  could  not  decide  the  matter,  although  the  butler 
intimated  that  it  would  quite  ruin  the  ball,  while  the 
assistant  mopped  his  brow  and  threw  all  the  blame  on 
somebody  else.  Nurse  came  in  and  hated  whatever  it 
was  the  moment  her  eye  fell  upon  it.  She  could  n't 
think  how  anybody  could  abide  it,  and  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  his  ludship  would  have  it  down  as  soon  as  he 
arrived. 

Our  attention  was  now  distracted  by  the  fact  that  his 
ludship  did  arrive.  It  was  ten  o'clock,  but  barely  dark 
enough  yet  to  make  the  lanterns  effective,  although  they 
had  just  been  lighted. 

There  were  two  private  carriages  and  two  four- 
wheelers,  from  which  paterfamilias  and  one  other  gentle- 
man alighted,  followed  by  a  small  feminine  delegation. 

"One  young  chap  to  brace  up  the  gov'nor,"  said 
Bertie  Godolphin.  "  Then  the  eldest  daughter  is  en- 
gaged to  be  married ;  that 's  right ;  only  three  daugh- 
ters and  two  h'orphan  nieces  to  work  off  now  !  " 

As  the  girls  scampered  in,  hidden  by  their  long  cloaks, 
we  could  not  even  discover  the  two  we  already  knew. 
While  they  were  divesting  themselves  of  their  wraps 
in  an  upper  chamber,  Nurse  hovering  over  them  with 
maternal  solicitude,  we  were  anxiously  awaiting  their 
criticisms  of  our  preparations. 


[83] 


Patricia 


nd  Terence 
stayed  by  the  plan 


FOR  three  days  we  had  been  overseeing  the  details. 
Would  they  approve  the  result  ?  Would  they  think 
the  grand  piano  in  the  proper  corner  ?  .  Were  the  gar- 
lands hung  too  low  ?  Was  the  balcony  scheme  effec- 
tive ?  Was  our  menu  for  the  supper  satisfactory  ? 
Were  there  too  many  lanterns  ?  Lord  and  Lady 
Brighthelmston  had  superintended  so  little,  and  we  so 
much,  that  we  felt  personally  responsible. 

Now  came  musicians  with  their  instruments.  The 
butler  sent  four  melancholy  Spanish  students  to  the 
[84] 


PATRICIA    MAKES    HER    DEBUT 

balcony,  where  they  began  to  tune  mandolins  and  guitars, 
while  a  Hungarian  band  took  up  its  position,  we  con- 
jectured, on  some  extension  or  balcony  in  the  rear,  the 
existence  of  which  we  had  not  guessed  until  we  heard 
the  music  later.  Then  the  butler  turned  on  the  electric 
light,  and  the  family  came  into  the  drawing-rooms. 

They  did  admire  them  as  much  as  we  could  wish,  and 
we,  on  our  part,  thoroughly  approved  of  the  family. 
We  had  feared  it  might  prove  dull,  plain,  dowdy,  though 
well-born,  with  only  dear  Patricia  to  enliven  it,  but  it 
was  well-dressed,  merry,  and  had  not  a  thought  of 
glancing  at  the  windows  or  pulling  down  the  blinds, 
bless  its  simple  heart ! 

The  mother  entered  first,  wearing  a  gray  satin  gown 
and  a  diamond  crown  that  quite  established  her  posi- 
tion in  the  great  world.  Then  girls,  and  more  girls  :  a 
rose-pink  girl,  a  pale  green,  a  lavender,  a  yellow,  and  our 
Patricia,  in  a  cloud  of  white  with  a  sparkle  of  silver, 
and  a  diamond  arrow  in  her  lustrous  hair. 

What  an  English  nosegay  they  made  to  be  sure,  as 
they  stood  in  the  back  of  the  room  while  paterfamilias 
approached,  and  calling  each  in  turn,  gave  her  a  lovely 
bouquet  from  a  huge  basket  held  by  the  butler. 

Everybody's  flowers   matched  everybody's   frock  to 

perfection  ;  those  of  the   h'orphan  nieces  were  just  as 

beautiful  as  those  of  the  daughters,  and  it  is  no  wonder 

that  the  English  nosegay  descended  upon  paterfamilias, 

[85] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

bore  him  into  the  passage,  and  if  they  did  not  kiss  him 
soundly,  why  did  he  come  back  all  rosy  and  crumpled, 
smoothing  his  disheveled  hair,  and  smiling  at  Lady 
Brighthelmston  ?  We  speedily  named  the  girls  Kose, 
Mignonette,  Violet,  and  Celandine,  each  after  the  color 
of  her  frock. 

"  But  there  are  only  five,  and  there  ought  to  be  six," 
whispered  Salemina,  as  if  she  expected  to  be  heard 
across  the  street. 

"  One  —  two  —  three  —  four  —  five,  you  are  right," 
said  Mr.  Beresford  ;  "  the  plainest  of  the  lot  must  be 
staying  in  Wales  with  a  maiden  aunt  who  has  a  lot  of 
money  to  leave.  The  old  lady  isn't  so  ill  that  they 
can't  give  the  ball,  but  just  ill  enough  so  that  she  may 
make  her  will  wrong  if  left  alone ;  poor  girl,  to  be  plain, 
and  then  to  miss  such  a  ball  as  this.  Hello  !  the  first 
guest !  He  is  on  time  to  be  sure ;  I  hate  to  be  first, 
don't  you  ?  " 

The  first  guest  was  a  strikingly  handsome  fellow, 
irreproachably  dressed  and  unmistakably  nervous. 

"  He  is  afraid  he  is  too  early ! " 

"  He  is  afraid  that  if  he  waits  he  '11  be  too  late !  " 

"  He  does  n't  want  the  driver  to  stop  directly  in  front 
of  the  door." 

"  He  has  something  beside  him  on  the  seat  of  the 
hansom." 

"  The  tissue  paper  has  blown  off ;  it  is  flowers." 
[86] 


PATRICIA    MAKES    HER    DEBUT 

"  It  is  a  piece  !    Jove,  this  is  a  rum  ball ! " 

"  What  is  the  thing  ?  No  wonder  he  does  n't  drive 
up  to  the  door  and  go  in  with  it  ! " 

"  It  is  a  harp,  as  sure  as  I  am  alive ! " 

Then  electrically  from  Francesca,  "It  is  Patricia's 
Irish  lover  !  I  forget  his  name." 

"Kory!" 

"  Shamus  ! " 

"Michael!" 

"  Patrick ! " 

"  Terence ! " 

"  Hush  ! "  she  exclaimed  at  this  chorus  of  Hibernian 
Christian  names,  "  it  is  Patricia's  undeclared,  impecuni- 
ous lover.  He  is  afraid  that  she  won't  know  his  gift  is 
a  harp,  and  afraid  that  the  other  girls  will.  He  feared 
to  send  it,  lest  one  of  the  sisters  or  h'orphan  nieces 
should  get  it ;  it  is  frightful  to  love  one  of  six,  and  the 
cards  are  always  slipping  off,  and  the  wrong  girl  is 
always  receiving  your  love  token  or  your  offer  of  mar- 
riage." 

"  And  if  it  is  an  offer,  and  the  wrong  woman  gets  it, 
she  always  accepts,  somehow,"  said  Mr.  Beresford  ;  "  it 's 
only  the  right  one  who  declines !  "  and  here  he  certainly 
looked  at  me  pointedly. 

"  He  hoped  to  arrive  before  any  one  else,"  Francesca 
went  on,  "  and  put  the  harp  in  a  nice  place,  and  lead 
Patricia  up  to  it,  and  make  her  wonder  who  sent  it. 
[87] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Now,  poor  dear  (yes,  his  name  is  sure  to  be  Terence), 
he  is  too  late,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  leave  it  in  the 
hansom,  he  will  be  so  embarrassed." 

And  so  he  did,  but  alas,  the  driver  came  back  with  it  in 
an  instant,  the  butler  ran  down  the  long  path  of  crimson 
carpet  that  covered  the  sidewalk,  the  first  footman 
assisted,  the  second  footman  pursued  Terence  and 
caught  him  on  the  staircase,  and  he  descended  reluct- 
antly, only  to  receive  the  harp  in  his  arms  and  send  a 
tip  to  the  cabman,  whom  of  course  he  was  cursing  in 
his  heart. 

"I  can't  think  why  he  should  give  her  a  harp," 
mused  Bertie  Godolphin.  "  Such  a  rum  thing,  a  harp, 
is  n't  it  ?  It 's  too  heavy  for  her  to  '  tote,'  as  you  say 
in  the  States." 

"  Yes,  we  always  say  '  tote,'  particularly  in  the  North," 
I  replied ;  "  but  perhaps  it  is  Patricia's  favorite  instru- 
ment. Perhaps  Terence  first  saw  her  at  the  harp,  and 
loved  her  from  the  moment  he  heard  her  sing  The  Min- 
strel Boy  and  The  Meeting  of  the  Waters." 

"  Perhaps  he  merely  brought  it  as  a  sort  of  symbol," 
suggested  Mr.  Beresford ;  "  a  kind  of  flowery  metaphor, 
signifying  that  all  Ireland,  in  his  person,  is  at  her  dis- 
posal, only  waiting  to  be  played  upon." 

"  If  that  is  what  he  means,  he  must  be  a  jolly  muff," 
remarked  the  Honorable  Arthur.     (i  I  should  think  he  'd 
have  to  send  a  guidebook  with  the  bloomin'  thing." 
[88] 


PATRICIA   MAKES    HER   DEBUT 

We  never  knew  how  Terence  arranged  about  the 
incubus  ;  we  only  saw  that  he  did  not  enter  the  draw- 
ing-room with  it  in  his  arms.  He  was  well  received, 
although  there  was  no  special  enthusiasm  over  his 
arrival ;  but  the  first  guest  is  always  at  a  disadvan- 
tage. 

He  greeted  the  young  ladies  as  if  he  were  in  the 
habit  of  meeting  them  often,  but  when  he  came  to  Pa- 
tricia, well,  he  greeted  her  as  if  he  could  never  meet 
her  often  enough ;  there  was  a  distinct  difference,  and, 
even  Mrs.  Beresford,  who  had  been  incredulous,  suc- 
cumbed to  our  view  of  the  case. 

Patricia  took  him  over  to  the  piano  to  see  the  arrange- 
ment of  some  lilies.  He  said  they  were  delicious,  but 
looked  at  her. 

She  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  the  garlands 
lovely. 

He  said,  "  Perfectly  charming,"  but  never  lifted  his 
eyes  higher  than  her  face. 

"  Do  you  like  my  dress  ?  "  her  glance  seemed  to  ask. 

"  Wonderful ! "  his  seemed  to  reply,  as  he  stealthily 
put  out  his  hand  and  touched  a  soft  fold  of  its  white 
fluffiness. 

I  could  hear  him  think,  as  she  leaned  into  the  curve 
of  the  Broadwood  and  bent  over  the  flowers  :  — 

"Have  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  grow 
Before  rude  hands  have  touched  it  ? 
[89] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Have  you  marked  but  the  fall  of  the  snow 

Before  the  soil  hath  smutched  it  ? 
Have  you  felt  the  wool  of  beaver  ? 

Or  swan's  down  ever  ? 
Or  have  smelt  o'  the  bud  o'  the  brier  ? 

Or  the  nard  i'  the  fire  ? 
Or  have  tasted  the  bag  of  the  bee  ? 
Oh,  so  white!  oh,  so  soft!  oh,  so  sweet  is  she  !  " 

A  footman  entered,  bearing  the  harp,  which  he  placed 
on  a  table  in  the  corner.  He  disclaimed  all  knowledge 
of  it,  having  probably  been  well  paid  to  do  so,  and  the  un- 
occupied girls  gathered  about  it  like  bees  about  a  honey- 
suckle, while  Patricia  and  Terence  stayed  by  the  piano. 

"  To  think  it  may  never  be  a  match !  "  sighed  Fran- 
cesca,  "and  they  are  such  an  ideal  pair  !  But  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  the  mother  will  oppose  it,  and  although 
Patricia  is  her  father's  darling,  he  cannot  allow  her  to 
marry  a  handsome  young  pauper  like  Terence." 

" Cheer  up!"  said  Bertie  Godolphin  reassuringly.  - 
"  Perhaps  some  unrelenting  beggar  of  an  uncle  will 
die  of  old  age  next  week  and  leave  him  the  title  and 
estates." 

"I  hope  she  will  accept  him  to-night,  if  she  loves 
him,  estates  or  no  estates,"  said  Salemina,  who,  like 
many  ladies  who  have  elected  to  remain  single,  is  dis- 
tinctly sentimental  and  has  not  an  ounce  of  worldly 
wisdom. 

"Well,   I  think  a   fellow  deserves  some  reward," 
[90] 


PATRICIA    MAKES    HER    DEBUT 

remarked  Mr.  Beresford,  "  when  he  has  the  courage  to 
drive  up  in  a  hansom  bearing  a  green  harp  with  yellow 
strings  in  his  arms.  It  shows  that  his  passion  has 
quite  eclipsed  his  sense  of  humor.  By  the  way,  I  am 
not  sure  but  I  should  choose  Rose,  after  all ;  there  's 
something  very  attractive  about  Kose." 

"  It  is  the  fact  that  she  is  promised  to  another," 
laughed  Francesca  somewhat  pertly. 

"  She  would  make  an  admirable  wife,"  Mrs.  Beres- 
ford interjected  —  absent-mindedly ;  "  and  so  of  course 
Terence  will  not  choose  her,  and  similarly  neither 
would  you,  if  you  had  the  chance." 

At  this  Mrs.  Beresford's  son  glances  up  at  me  with 
twinkling  eyes,  and  I  can  hardly  forbear  smiling,  so 
unconscious  is  she  that  his  choice  is  already  made ; 
however,  he  replies  :  "  Who  ever  loved  a  woman  for 
her  solid  virtues,  mother  ?  Who  ever  fell  a  victim  to 
punctuality,  patience,  or  frugality  ?  It  is  other  and  dif- 
ferent qualities  which  color  the  personality  and  ensnare 
the  heart ;  though  the  stodgy  and  reliable  traits  hold  it,  I 
dare  say,  when  once  captured.  Don't  you  know,  Berke- 
ley says,  '  D n  it,  madam,  who  falls  in  love  with 

attributes  ? ' " 

Meantime  Violet  and  Celandine  have  come  out  on 
the  balcony,  and  seeing  the  tinkling  musicians  there, 
have  straightway  banished  them  to  another  part  of  the 
house. 

[91] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

"  A  good  thing,  too ! "  murmured  Bertie  Godolphin, 
"  making  a  beastly  row  in  that  '  nailing '  little  corner, 
collecting  a  crowd  sooner  or  later,  don't  you  know,  and 
putting  a  dead  stop  to  the  jolly  little  flirtations." 

The  Honorable  Arthur  glanced  critically  at  Celan- 
dine. "I  should  make  up  to  her/'  he  said  thought- 
fully. "  She 's  the  best  groomed  one  of  the  whole  stud, 
though  why  you  call  her  Celandine  I  can't  think." 

"  It 's  a  flower,  and  her  dress  is  yellow,  can't  you  see, 
man  ?  You  've  got  no  sense  of  color,"  said  the  candid 
Bertie.  "  I  believe  you  'd  just  as  soon  be  a  green  parrot 
with  a  red  head  as  not." 

And  now  the  guests  began  to  arrive;  so  many  of 
them  and  so  near  together  that  we  hardly  had  time  to 
label  them  as  they  said  good-evening,  and  told  dear 
Lady  Brighthelmston  how  pretty  the  decorations  were, 
and  how  prevalent  the  influenza  had  been,  and  how  very 
sultry  the  weather,  and  how  clever  it  was  of  her  to  give 
her  party  in  a  vacant  house,  and  what  a  delightful 
marriage  Rose  was  making,  and  how  well  dear  Patricia 
looked. 

The  sound  of  the  music  drifted  into  the  usually  quiet 
street,  and  by  half  past  eleven  the  ball  was  in  full 
splendor.  Lady  Brighthelmston  stood  alone  now, 
greeting  all  the  late  arrivals ;  and  we  could  catch  a 
glimpse  now  and  then  of  Violet  dancing  with  a  beauti- 
ful being  in  a  white  uniform,  and  of  Rose  followed 
[92] 


PATRICIA    MAKES    HER    DEBUT 

about  by  her  accepted  lover,  both  of  them  content  with 
their  lot,  but  with  feet  quite  on  the  solid  earth. 

Celandine  was  a  bit  of  a  flirt,  no  doubt.  She  had 
many  partners,  walked  in  the  garden  with  them  impar- 
tially, divided  her  dances,  sat  on  the  stairs.  Wherever 
her  yellow  draperies  moved  nonsense,  merriment,  and 
chatter  followed  in  her  wake. 

Patricia  danced  often  with  Terence.  We  could  see 
the  dark  head,  darker  and  a  bit  taller  than  the  others, 
move  through  the  throng,  the  diamond  arrow  gleaming 
in  its  lustrous  coils.  She  danced  like  a  flower  blown 
by  the  wind.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  graceful, 
more  stately.  The  bend  of  her  slender  body  at  the 
waist,  the  pose  of  her  head,  the  line  of  her  shoulder, 
the  suggestion  of  dimple  in  her  elbow,  —  all  were  so 
many  separate  allurements  to  the  kindling  eye  of  love. 

Terence  certainly  added  little  to  the  general  brilliancy 
and  gayety  of  the  occasion,  for  he  stood  in  a  corner  and 
looked  at  Patricia  whenever  he  was  not  dancing  with 
her,  "  all  eye  when  one  was  present,  all  memory  when 
one  was  gone." 


[93] 


The  personage   .    .   .   stooped  gently 

and  kissed  her  forehead 


SHORTLY  after  midnight  our  own  little  company 
broke  up,  loath  to  leave  the  charming  spectacle.  The 
guests  departed  with  the  greatest  reluctance,  having 
given  Dawson  a  half-sovereign  for  waiting  up  to  lock 
the  door.  Mrs.  Beresford  said  that  it  seemed  unendur- 
able to  leave  matters  in  such  an  unfinished  condition, 
and  her  son  promised  to  come  very  early  next  morning 
for  the  latest  bulletins. 

"  I  leave  all  the  romances  in  your  hands,"  he  whis- 
pered to  me  ;  "  do  let  them  turn  out  happily,  do  !  " 
[94] 


A   PENELOPE   SECRET 

Salemina  also  retired  to  her  virtuous  couch,  remem- 
bering that  she  was  to  visit  infant  schools  with  a  great 
educational  dignitary  on  the  morrow. 

Francesca  and  I  turned  the  gas  entirely  out,  although 
we  had  been  sitting  all  the  evening  in  a  kind  of  twilight, 
and  slipping  on  our  dressing  gowns  sat  again  at  the 
window  for  a  farewell  peep  into  the  past,  present,  and 
future  of  the  "  Brighthelmston  set." 

At  midnight  the  dowager  duchess  arrived.  She  must 
at  least  have  been  a  dowager  duchess,  and  if  there  is 
anything  greater,  within  the  bounds  of  a  reasonable 
imagination,  she  was  that.  Long  streamers  of  black 
tulle  floated  from  a  diamond  soup-tureen  which  sur- 
mounted her  hair.  Narrow  puffings  of  white  traversed 
her  black  velvet  gown  in  all  directions,  making  her 
look  somewhat  like  a  railway  map,  and  a  diamond  fan- 
chain  defined,  or  attempted  to  define,  what  was  in  its 
nature  neither  definable  nor  confinable,  to  wit,  her 
waist,  or  what  had  been,  in  early  youth,  her  waist. 

The  entire  company  was  stirred  by  the  arrival  of 
the  dowager  duchess,  and  it  undoubtedly  added  new 
£clat  to  what  was  already  a  fashionable  event ;  for  we 
counted  three  gentlemen  who  wore  orders  glittering  on 
ribbons  that  crossed  the  white  of  their  immaculate  linen, 
and  there  was  an  Indian  potentate  with  a  jeweled  tur- 
ban who  divided  attention  with  the  dowager  duchess's 
diamond  soup-tureen. 

[95] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

At  twelve  thirty  Lord  Brighthelmston  chided  Celan- 
dine for  flirting  too  much. 

At  twelve  forty  Lady  Brighthelmston  reminded  Vio- 
let (who  was  a  h'orphan  niece)  that  the  beautiful  being 
in  the  white  uniform  was  not  the  eldest  son. 

At  twelve  fifty  there  arrived  an  elderly  gentleman, 
before  whom  the  servants  bowed  low.  Lord  Bright- 
helmston went  to  fetch  Patricia,  who  chanced  to  be  sit- 
ting out  a  dance  with  Terence.  The  three  came  out  on 
the  balcony,  which  was  deserted,  in  the  near  prospect 
of  supper,  and  the  personage  —  whom  we  suspected  to 
be  Patricia's  godfather  — took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket 
a  string  of  pearls,  and  clasping  it  round  her  white 
throat,  stooped  gently  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

Then,  at  one  o'clock  came  supper.  Francesca  and  I 
had  secretly  provided  for  that  contingency,  and  curling 
up  on  a  sofa  we  drew  toward  us  a  little  table  which 
Dawson  had  spread  with  a  galantine  of  chicken,  some 
cress  sandwiches,  and  a  jug  of  milk. 

At  one  thirty  we  were  quite  overcome  with  sleep, 
and  retired  to  our  beds,  where  of  course  we  speedily 
grew  wakeful. 

"  It  is  giving  a  ball,  not  going  to  one,  that  is  so  ex- 
hausting ! "  yawned  Francesca.  "  How  many  times 
have  I  danced  all  night  with  half  the  fatigue  that  I  am 
feeling  now ! " 

The  sound  of  music  came  across  the  street  through 
[96] 


A    PENELOPE    SECRET 

the  closed  door  of  our  sitting  room.  Waltz  after  waltz, 
a  polka,  a  galop,  then  waltzes  again,  until  our  brains 
reeled  with  the  rhythm.  As  if  this  were  not  enough, 
when  our  windows  at  the  back  were  opened  wide  we 
were  quite  within  reach  of  Lady  Durden's  small  dance, 
where  another  Hungarian  band  discoursed  more  waltzes 
and  galops. 

"  Dancing,  dancing  everywhere,  and  not  a  turn  for 
us  ! "  grumbled  Francesca.  "  I  simply  cannot  sleep, 
can  you  ?  " 

"  We  must  make  a  determined  effort,"  I  advised ; 
"  don't  speak  again,  and  perhaps  drowsiness  will  over- 
take us." 

It  finally  did  overtake  Francesca,  but  I  had  too  much 
to  think  about,  —  my  own  problems  as  well  as  Patricia's. 
After  what  seemed  to  be  hours  of  tossing  I  was  help- 
lessly drawn  back  into  the  sitting  room,  just  to  see  if 
anything  had  happened,  and  if  the  affair  was  ever  likely 
to  come  to  an  end. 

It  was  half  past  two,  and  yes,  the  ball  was  decidedly 
"  thinning  out." 

The  attendants  in  the  lower  hall,  when  they  were  not 
calling  carriages,  yawned  behind  their  hands,  and  stood 
first  on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other. 

Women  in  beautiful  wraps,  their  heads  flashing  with 
jewels,   descended  the   staircase,   and  drove,   or  even 
walked  away  into  the  summer  night. 
[97] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Lady  Brighthelmston  began  to  look  tired,  although 
all  the  world,  as  it  said  good-night,  was  telling  her  that 
it  was  one  of  the  most  delightful  balls  of  the  season. 

The  English  nosegay  had  lost  its  white  flower,  for 
Patricia  was  not  in  the  family  group.  I  looked  every- 
where for  the  gleam  of  her  silvery  scarf,  everywhere  for 
Terence,  while,  the  -waltz  music  having  ceased,  the 
Spanish  students  played  Love's  Young  Dream. 

I  hummed  the  words  as  the  sweet  old  tune,  strummed 
by  the  tinkling  mandolins,  vibrated  clearly  in  the  maze 
of  other  sounds :  — 

"  Oh  !  the  days  have  gone  when  Beauty  bright 

My  heart's  chain  wove  ; 
When  my  dream  of  life  from  morn  till  night 

Was  Love,  still  Love. 
New  hope  may  bloom  and  days  may  come. 

Of  milder,  calmer  beam, 
But  there  's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life 

As  Love's  Young  Dream." 

At  last,  in  a  quiet  spot  under  the  oak  tree,  the  lately 
risen  moon  found  Patricia's  diamond  arrow  and  discov- 
ered her  to  me.  The  Japanese  lanterns  had  burned 
out ;  she  was  wrapped  like  a  young  nun,  in  a  cloud  of 
white  that  made  her  eyelashes  seem  darker. 

I  looked  once,  because  the  moonbeam  led  me  into  it 
before  I  realized ;  then  I  stole  away  from  the  window 
and  into  my  own  room,  closing  the  door  softly  behind 
me. 

[98] 


A    PENELOPE    SECRET 

We  had  so  far  been  looking  only  at  conventionalities, 
preliminaries,  things  that  all  (who  had  eyes  to  see)  might 
see ;  but  this  was  different,  —  quite,  quite  different. 

They  were  as  beautiful  under  the  friendly  shadow  of 
their  urban  oak  tree  as  were  ever  Romeo  and  Juliet  on 
the  balcony  of  the  Capulets.  I  may  not  tell  you  what  I 
saw  in  my  one  quickly-repented-of  glance.  That  would 
be  vulgarizing  something  that  was  already  a  little  pro- 
faned by  my  innocent  participation. 

I  do  not  know  whether  Terence  was  heir,  even  ever 
so  far  removed,  to  any  title  or  estates,  and  I  am  sure 
Patricia  did  not  care  ;  he  may  have  been  vulgarly  rich 
or  aristocratically  poor.  I  only  know  that  they  loved 
each  other  in  the  old  yet  ever  new  way,  without  any  ifs 
or  ands  or  buts  ;  that  he  worshiped,  she  honored ;  he 
asked  humbly,  she  gave  gladly. 

How  do  I  know  ?  Ah  !  that 's  a  "  Penelope  secret," 
as  Francesca  says. 

Perhaps  you  doubt  my  intuitions  altogether.  Perhaps 
you  believe  in  your  heart  that  it  was  an  ordinary  ball, 
where  a  lot  of  stupid  people  arrived,  danced,  supped, 
and  departed.  Perhaps  you  do  not  think  his  name  was 
Terence  or  hers  Patricia,  and  if  you  go  so  far  as  that 
in  blindness  and  incredulity  I  should  not  expect  you  to 
translate  properly  what  I  saw  last  night  under  the  oak 
tree ;  the  night  of  the  ball  on  the  opposite  side,  when 
Patricia  made  her  debut. 

[99] 


r 


They  "were  all  mystery 


How  well  I  remember  our  last  evening  in  Dover- 
marie  Street ! 

At  one  of  our  open  windows  behind  the  potted  ferns 
and  blossoming  hydrangeas  sat  Salemina,  Bertie  Godol- 
phin,  Mrs.  Beresford,  the  Honorable  Arthur,  and  Fran- 
cesca  ;  at  another,  as  far  off  as  possible,  sat  Willie 
Beresford  and  I.  Mrs.  Beresford  had  sanctioned  a 
post-prandial  cigar,  for  we  were  not  going  out  until  ten, 
to  see,  for  the  second  time,  an  act  of  John  Hare's 
"  Pair  of  Spectacles." 

They  were  talking  and  laughing  at  the  other  end 
of  the  room ;  Mr.  Beresford  and  I  were  rather  quiet. 
(Why  is  it  that  the  people  with  whom  one  loves  to  be 
[100] 


LOVE    AND    LAVENDER 

silent  are  also  the  very  ones  with  whom  one  loves  to 
talk?) 

The  room  was  dim  with  the  light  of  a  single  lamp ; 
the  rain  had  ceased ;  the  roar  of  Piccadilly  came  to  us 
softened  by  distance.  A  belated  vender  of  lavender 
came  along  the  sidewalk,  and  as  he  stopped  under  the 
windows  the  pungent  fragrance  of  the  flowers  was 
wafted  up  to  us  with  his  song. 


^ 


Who  '11  buy  my  pretty  lav-ender  ?  Sweet  laven 


3F 


der,  Who  '11  buy    my      pret-ty     lavender  ? 


Sweet      bloomin'     lav  -en -der? 

The  tune  comes  to  me  laden  with  odors.  Is  it  not 
strange  that  the  fragrances  of  other  days  steal  in  upon 
the  senses,  together  with  the  sights  and  sounds  that 
gave  them  birth  ? 

Presently  a  horse  and  cart  drew  up  before  a  hotel,  a 
little  farther  along,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way. 
By  the  light  of  the  street  lamp  under  which  it  stopped 
[101] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

we  could  see  that  it  held  a  piano  and  two  persons  beside 
the  driver.  The  man  was  masked,  and  wore  a  soft  felt 
hat  and  a  velvet  coat.  He  seated  himself  at  the  piano 
and  played  a  Chopin  waltz  with  decided  sentiment  and 
brilliancy ;  then,  touching  the  keys  idly  for  a  moment 
or  two,  he  struck  a  few  chords  of  prelude  and  turned 
towards  the  woman  who  sat  beside  him.  She  rose,  and, 
laying  one  hand  on  the  corner  of  the  instrument,  began 
to  sing  one  of  the  season's  favorites,  —  "  The  Song  that 
touched  my  Heart."  She  also  was  masked,  and  even 
her  figure  was  hidden  by  a  long  dark  cloak,  the  hood  of 
which  was  drawn  over  her  head  to  meet  the  mask.  She 
sang  so  beautifully,  with  such  style  and  such  feeling,  it 
seemed  incredible  to  hear  her  under  circumstances  like 
these.  She  followed  the  ballad  with  Handel's  "Lascia 
ch'  io  pianga,"  which  rang  out  into  the  quiet  street  with 
almost  hopeless'pathos.  When  she  descended  from  the 
cart  to  undertake  the  more  prosaic  occupation  of  passing 
the  hat  beneath  the  windows,  I  could  see  that  she 
limped  slightly,  and  that  the  hand  with  which  she 
pushed  back  the  heavy  dark  hair  under  the  hood  was 
beautifully  moulded.  They  were  all  mystery,  that 
couple ;  not  to  be  confounded  for  an  instant  with  the 
common  herd  of  London  street  musicians.  With  what 
an  air  of  the  drawing-room  did  he  of  the  velvet  coat 
help  the  singer  into  the  cart,  and  with  what  elegant 
abandon  and  ultra-dilettanteism  did  he  light  a  cigarette, 
[102] 


Sweet  bhomin'  la-vender 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

reseat  himself  at  the  piano,  and  weave  Scotch  ballads 
into  a  charming  impromptu  !  I  confess  I  wrapped  my 
shilling  in  a  bit  of  paper  and  dropped  it  over  the  bal- 
cony with  the  wish  that  I  knew  the  tragedy  behind  this 
little  street  drama. 

Willie  Beresford  was  in  a  royal  mood  that  night. 
You  know  the  mood,  in  which  the  heart  is  so  full,  so  full, 
it  overruns  the  brim.  He  bought  the  entire  stock  of  the 
lavender  seller,  and  threw  a  shilling  to  the  mysterious 
singer  for  every  song  she  sung.  He  even  offered  to 
give  —  himself  —  to  me !  And  oh  !  I  would  have  taken 
him  as  gladly  as  ever  the  lavender  boy  took  the  half 
crown,  had  I  been  quite,  quite  sure  of  myself !  A  wo- 
man with  a  vocation  ought  to  be  still  surer  than  other 
women,  that  it  is  the  very  jewel  of  love  she  is  setting  in 
her  heart,  and  not  a  sparkling  imitation.  I  gave  myself 
wholly,  or  believed  that  I  gave  myself  wholly,  to  art,  or 
what  I  believed  to  be  art.  And  is  there  anything  more 
sacred  than  art  ?  —  Yes,  one  thing ! 

It  happened  something  in  this  wise. 

The  singing  had  put  us  in  a  gentle  mood,  and  after  a 
long  peroration  from  Mr.  Beresford,  which  I  do  not 
care  to  repeat,  I  said  very  softly  (blessing  the  Honor- 
able Arthur's  vociferous  laughter  at  one  of  Salemina's 
American  jokes),  "But  I  thought  perhaps  it  was  Fran- 
cesca.  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  " 
[104] 


LOVE    AND    LAVENDER 

He  intimated  that  if  there  were  any  fact  in  his  reper- 
tory of  which  he  was  particularly  and  absolutely  sure 
it  was  this  special  fact. 

"  It  is  too  sudden,"  I  objected.  "  Plants  that  blossom 
on  shipboard  "  — 

"  This  plant  was  rooted  in  American  earth,  and  you 
know  it,  Penelope.  If  it  chanced  to  blossom  on  the 
ship,  it  was  because  it  had  already  budded  on  the  shore ; 
it  has  borne  transplanting  to  a  foreign  soil,  and  it  grows 
in  beauty  and  strength  every  day :  so  no  slurs,  please, 
concerning  ocean-steamer  hothouses." 

"  I  cannot  say  yes,  yet  I  dare  not  say  no ;  it  is  too 
soon.  I  must  go  off  into  the  country  quite  by  myself 
and  think  it  over." 

"  But,"  urged  Mr.  Beresford,  "you  cannot  think  over 
a  matter  of  this  kind  by  yourself.  You  '11  continually 
be  needing  to  refer  to  me  for  data,  don't  you  know,  on 
which  to  base  your  conclusions.  How  can  you  tell 
whether  you  're  in  love  with  me  or  not  if  —  (No,  I  am 
not  shouting  at  all ;  it 's  your  guilty  conscience ;  I  'm 
whispering.)  How  can  you  tell  whether  you  're  in  love 
with  me,  I  repeat,  unless  you  keep  me  under  constant 
examination  ?  " 

"  That  seems  sensible,  though  I  dare  say  it  is  full  of 

sophistry  ;   but  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go  into 

the  country  and  paint  while  Salemina  and  Francesca 

are  on  the  Continent.     One  cannot  think  in  this  whirl. 

[105] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

A  winter  season  in  Washington  followed  by  a  summer 
season  in  London,  —  one  wants  a  breath  of  fresh  air  be- 
fore beginning  another  winter  season  somewhere  else. 
Be  a  little  patient,  please.  I  long  for  the  calm  that 
steals  over  me  when  I  am  absorbed  in  my  brushes  and 
my  oils." 

"  Work  is  all  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Beresf ord  with  de- 
termination, "but  I  know  your  habits.  You  have  a 
little  way  of  taking  your  brush,  and  with  one  savage 
sweep  painting  out  a  figure  from  your  canvas.  Now  if 
I  am  on  the  canvas  of  your  heart,  —  I  say  '  if '  tenta- 
tively and  modestly,  as  becomes  me,  —  I  've  no  inten- 
tion of  allowing  you  to  paint  me  out ;  therefore  I  wish 
to  remain  in  the  foreground,  where  I  can  say  '  Strike ! 
but  hear  me,'  if  I  discover  any  hostile  tendencies  in 
your  eye.  But  I  am  thankful  for  small  favors  (the '  no ' 
you  do  not  quite  dare  say,  for  instance),  and  I  '11  talk  it 
over  with  you  to-morrow,  if  the  British  gentry  will  give 
me  an  opportunity,  and  if  you  '11  deign  to  give  me  a 
moment  alone  in  any  other  place  than  the  Royal 
Academy." 

"I  was  alone  with  you  to-day  for  a  whole  hour  at 
least." 

"  Yes,  first  at  the  London  and  Westminster  Bank, 
second  in  Trafalgar  Square,  and  third  on  the  top  of  a 
'bus,  none  of  them  congenial  spots  to  a  man  in  my 

[106] 


LOVE    AND    LAVENDER 

humor.    Penelope,  you  are  not  dull,  but  you  don't  seem 
to  understand  that  I  am  head  over  "  — 

"  What  are  you  two  people  quarreling  about  ?  "  cried 
Salemina.  "  Come,  Penelope,  get  your  wrap.  Mrs.  Ber- 
esford,  is  n't  she  charming  in  her  new  Liberty  gown  ? 
If  that  New  York  wit  had  seen  her,  he  could  n't  have 
said,  '  If  that  is  Liberty,  give  me  Death  ! '  Yes,  Fran- 
cesca,  you  must  wear  something  over  your  shoulders. 
Whistle  for  two  four-wheelers,  Dawson,  please." 


[107] 


SECPKP 
IN   THE  COUNTRY -XV 


WEST  BELVERN,  HOLLY  HOUSE, 

August,  189-. 

I  AM  here  alone.  Salemina  has  taken  her  little  cloth 
bag  and  her  note-book  and  gone  to  inspect  the  educa- 
tional and  industrial  methods  of  Germany.  If  she  can 
discover  anything  that  they  are  not  already  doing  better 
in  Boston,  she  will  take  it  back  with  her,  but  her  state 
of  mind  regarding  the  outcome  of  the  trip  might  be 
described  as  one  of  incredulity  tinged  with  hope. 
Francesca  has  accompanied  Salemina.  Not  that  the 
inspection  of  systems  is  much  in  her  line,  but  she  pre- 
[108] 


PENELOPE    DREAMS 

fers  it  to  a  solitude  a  deux  with  me  when  I  am  iu  a 
working  mood,  and  she  comforts  herself  with  the  anti- 
cipation that  the  German  army  is  very  attractive. 
Willie  Beresford  has  gone  with  his  mother  to  Aix-les- 
Bains,  like  the  dutiful  son  that  he  is.  They  say  that  a 
good  son  makes  a  good  —  But  that  subject  is  dis- 
missed to  the  background  for  the  present,  for  we  are  in 
a  state  of  armed  neutrality.  He  has  agreed  to  wait 
until  the  autumn  for  a  final  answer,  and  I  have  pro- 
mised to  furnish  one  by  that  time.  Meanwhile,  we  are 
to  continue  our  acquaintance  by  post,  which  is  a  con- 
cession I  would  never  have  allowed  if  I  had  had  my 
wits  about  me. 

After  paying  my  last  week's  bill  in  Dovermarle  Street, 
including  fees  to  several  servants  whom  I  knew  by 
sight,  and  several  others  whose  acquaintance  I  made  for 
the  first  time  at  the  moment  of  departure,  I  glanced  at 
my  ebbing  letter  of  credit  and  felt  a  season  of  economy 
setting  in  upon  me  with  unusual  severity  ;  accordingly, 
I  made  an  experiment  of  coming  third  class  to  Belvern. 
I  handed  the  guard  a  shilling,  and  he  gave  me  a  seat 
riding  backwards  in  a  carriage  with  seven  other  women, 
all  very  frumpish,  but  highly  respectable.  As  he  could 
not  possibly  have  done  any  worse  for  me,  I  take  it  that 
he  considered  the  shilling  a  graceful  tribute  to  his  per- 
sonal charms,  but  as  having  no  other  bearing  whatever. 
The  seven  women  stared  at  me  throughout  the  journey. 
[109] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

When  one  is  really  of  the  same  blood,  and  when  one 
does  not  open  one's  lips  or  wave  the  stars  and  stripes 
in  any  possible  manner,  how  do  they  detect  the  Amer- 
ican ?  These  women  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  highly 
interesting  anthropoidal  ape.  It  was  not  because  of  my 
attire,  for  I  was  carefully  dressed  down  to  a  third-class 
level ;  yet  when  I  removed  my  plain  Knox  hat  and 
leaned  my  head  back  against  my  traveling-pillow,  an 
electrical  shudder  of  intense  excitement  ran  through  the 
entire  compartment.  When  I  stooped  to  tie  my  shoe 
another  current  was  set  in  motion,  and  when  I  took 
Charles  Keade's  "  White  Lies  "  from  my  portmanteau 
they  glanced  at  one  another  as  if  to  say,  "  Would  that 
we  could  see  in  what  language  the  book  is  written ! " 
As  a  traveling  mystery  I  reached  my  highest  point  at 
Oxford,  for  there  I  purchased  a  small  basket  of  plums 
from  a  boy  who  handed  them  in  at  the  window  of  the 
carriage.  After  eating  a  few,  I  offered  the  rest  to  a 
dowdy  elderly  woman  on  my  left  who  was  munching 
dry  biscuits  from  a  paper  bag.  "  What  next  ?  "  was 
the  facial  expression  of  the  entire  company.  My  neigh- 
bor accepted  the  plums,  but  hid  them  in  her  bag; 
plainly  thinking  them  poisoned,  and  believing  me  to 
be  a  foreign  conspirator,  conspiring  against  England 
through  the  medium  of  her  inoffensive  person.  In  the 
course  of  the  four  hours'  journey,  I  could  account  for 
the  strange  impression  I  was  making  only  upon  the 
[110] 


PENELOPE    DREAMS 

theory  that  it  is  unusual  to  comport  one's  self  in  a  first- 
class  manner  in  a  third-class  carriage.  All  my  compan- 
ions chanced  to  be  third  class  by  birth  as  well  as  by 
ticket,  and  the  Englishwoman  who  is  born  third  class 
is  sometimes  deficient  in  imagination. 

Upon  arriving  at  Great  Belvern  (which  must  be  pro- 
nounced "  Bevern  ")  I  took  a  trap,  had  my  luggage  put 
on  in  front,  and  started  on  my  quest  for  lodgings  in 
West  Belvern,  five  miles  distant.  Several  addresses 
had  been  given  me  by  Hilda  Mellifica,  who  has  spent 
much  time  in  this  region,  and  who  begged  me  to  use 
her  name.  I  told  the  driver  that  I  wished  to  find  a 
clean,  comfortable  lodging,  with  the  view  mentioned  in 
the  guide-book,  and  with  a  purple  clematis  over  the 
door,  if  possible.  The  last  point  astounded  him  to  such 
a  degree  that  he  had,  I  think,  a  serious  idea  of  giving 
me  into  custody.  (I  should  not  be  so  eccentrically 
spontaneous  with  these  people,  if  they  did  not  feed  my 
sense  of  humor  by  their  amazement.) 

We  visited  Holly  House,  Osborne,  St.  James,  Vic- 
toria, and  Albert  houses,  Tank  Villa,  Poplar  Villa, 
Rose,  Brake,  and  Thorn  villas,  as  well  as  Hawthorne, 
Gorse,  Fern,  Shrubbery,  and  Providence  cottages.  All 
had  apartments,  but  many  were  taken,  and  many  more 
had  rooms  either  dark  and  stuffy  or  without  view. 
Holly  House  was  my  first  stopping-place.  Why  will  a 
woman  voluntarily  call  her  place  by  a  name  which  she 
[111] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

can  never  pronounce  ?  It  is  iny  landlady's  misfortune 
that  she  is  named  'Obbs,  and  mine  that  I  am  called 
'Amilton,  but  Mrs.  'Obbs  must  have  rushed  with  eyes 
wide  open  on  'Oily  'Ouse.  I  found  sitting-room  and 
bed-room  at  Holly  House  for  two  guineas  a  week ; 
everything,  except  roof,  extra.  This  was  more  than,  in 
my  new  spirit  of  economy,  I  desired  to  pay,  but  after 
exhausting  my  list  I  was  obliged  to  go  back  rather  than 
sleep  in  the  highroad.  Mrs.  Hobbs  offered  to  deduct 
two  shillings  a  week  if  I  stayed  until  Christmas,  and 
said  she  should  not  charge  me  a  penny  for  the  linen. 
Thanking  her  with  tears  of  gratitude,  I  requested  dinner. 
There  was  no  meat  in  the  house,  so  I  supped  frugally 
off  two  boiled  eggs,  a  stodgy  household  loaf,  and  a  mug 
of  ale,  after  which  I  climbed  the  stairs,  and  retired  to 
my  feather  bed  in  a  rather  depressed  frame  of  mind. 

Visions  of  Salemina  and  Francesca  driving  under  the 
linden-trees  in  Berlin  flitted  across  my  troubled  reveries, 
with  glimpses  of  Willie  Beresford  and  his  mother  at 
Aix-les-Bains.  At  this  distance  and  in  the  dead  of 
night,  my  sacrifice  in  coming  here  seemed  fruitless. 
Why  did  I  not  allow  myself  to  drift  forever  on  that 
pleasant  sea  which  has  been  lapping  me  in  sweet  and 
indolent  content  these  many  weeks  ?  Of  what  use  to 
labor,  to  struggle,  to  deny  myself,  for  an  art  to  which  I 
can  never  be  more  than  the  humblest  hand-maiden  ?  I 
felt  like  crying  out,  as  did  once  a  braver  woman's  soul 
[112] 


PENELOPE    DREAMS 


than  mine,  "  Let  me  be  weak !  I  have  been  seeming  to 
be  strong  so  many  years  !  "  The  woman  and  the  artist 
in  me  have  always  struggled  for  the  mastery.  So  far 


The  last  point  astounded  him 

the  artist  has  triumphed,  and  now  all  at  once  the  woman 
is  uppermost.  I  should  think  the  two  ought  to  be  able 
to  live  peaceably  in  the  same  tenement ;  they  do  manage 
it  in  some  cases ;  but  it  seems  a  law  of  my  being  that  I 
shall  either  be  all  one  or  all  the  other. 
[113] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

The  question  for  me  to  ask  myself  now  is,  Am  I  in 
love  with  loving  and  with  being  loved,  or  am  I  in  love 
with  Willie  Beresford  ? "  How  many  women  have 
confounded  the  two,  I  wonder  ? 

In  this  mood  I  fell  asleep,  and  on  a  sudden  I  found 
myself  in  a  dear  New  England  garden.  The  pillow 
slipped  away,  and  my  cheek  pressed  a  fragrant  mound 
of  mignonette,  the  selfsame  one  on  which  I  hid  my  tear- 
stained  face  and  sobbed  my  heart  out  in  childish  grief 
and  longing  for  the  mother  who  would  never  hold  me 
again.  The  moon  came  up  over  the  Belvern  Hills  and 
shone  on  my  half-closed  lids  ;  but  to  me  it  was  a  very 
different  moon,  the  far-away  moon  of  my  childhood, 
with  a  river  rippling  beneath  its  silver  rays.  And  the 
wind  that  rustled  among  the  poplar  branches  outside  my 
window  was,  in  my  dream,  stirring  the  pink  petals  of  a 
blossoming  apple-tree  that  used  to  grow  beside  the  bank 
of  mignonette,  wafting  down  sweet  odors  and  drinking 
in  sweeter  ones.  And  presently  there  stole  in  upon 
this  harmony  of  enchanting  sounds  and  delicate  fra- 
grances, in  which  childhood  and  womanhood,  pleasure 
and  pain,  memory  and  anticipation,  seemed  strangely 
intermingled,  the  faint  music  of  a  voice,  growing  clearer 
and  clearer  as  my  ear  became  familiar  with  its  cadences. 
And  what  the  dream  voice  said  to  me  was  something 
like  this :  — 

"  If  thou  wouldst  have  happiness,  choose  neither 
[114] 


PENELOPE    DREAMS 

fame,  which  doth  not  long  abide,  nor  power,  which 
stings  the  hand  that  wields  it,  nor  gold,  which  glitters 
but  never  glorifies  ;  but  choose  thou  Love,  and  hold  it 
forever  in  thy  heart  of  hearts  ;  for  Love  is  the  purest 
and  the  mightiest  force  in  the  universe,  and  once  it  is 
thine  all  other  gifts  shall  be  added  unto  thee.  Love 
that  is  passionate  yet  reverent,  tender  yet  strong,  selfish 
in  desiring  all  yet  generous  in  giving  all ;  love  of  man 
for  woman  and  woman  for  man,  of  parent  for  child  and 
friend  for  friend,  —  when  this  is  born  in  the  soul,  the 
desert  blossoms  as  the  rose.  Straightway  new  hopes 
and  wishes,  sweet  longings  and  pure  ambitions,  spring 
into  being,  like  green  shoots  that  lift  their  tender  heads 
in  sunny  places  ;  and  if  the  soil  be  kind,  they  grow 
stronger  and  more  beautiful  as  each  glad  day  laughs  in 
the  rosy  skies.  And  by  and  by  singing  birds  come  and 
build  their  nests  in  the  branches;  and  these  are  the 
pleasures  of  life.  And  the  birds  sing  not  often,  because 
of  a  serpent  that  lurketh  in  the  garden.  And  the  name 
of  the  serpent  is  Satiety.  He  maketh  the  heart  to  grow 
weary  of  what  it  once  danced  and  leaped  to  think  upon, 
and  the  ear  to  wax  dull  to  the  melody  of  sounds  that 
once  were  sweet,  and  the  eye  blind  to  the  beauty  that 
once  led  enchantment  captive.  And  sometimes,  —  we 
know  not  why,  but  we  shall  know  hereafter,  for  life  is 
not  completely  happy  since  it  is  not  heaven,  nor  com- 
pletely unhappy  siiice  it  is  the  road  thither,  —  sometimes 
[115] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

the  light  of  the  sun  is  withdrawn  for  a  moment,  and 
that  which  is  fairest  vanishes  from  the  place  that  was 
enriched  by  its  presence.  Yet  the  garden  is  never 
quite  deserted.  Modest  flowers,  whose  charms  we 
had  not  noted  when  youth  was  bright  and  the  world 
seemed  ours,  now  lift  their  heads  in  sheltered  places 
and  whisper  peace.  The  morning  song  of  the  birds  is 
hushed,  for  the  dawn  breaks  less  rosily  in  the  eastern 
skies,  but  at  twilight  they  still  come  and  nestle  in  the 
branches  that  were  sunned  in  the  smile  of  love  and 
watered  with  its  happy  tears.  And  over  the  grave  of 
each  buried  hope  or  joy  stands  an  angel  with  strong 
comforting  hands  and  patient  smile ;  and  the  name  of 
the  garden  is  Life,  and  the  angel  is  Memory." 


[116] 


NORTH  BELVERN. 
At  Mrs.  Bobby's  cottage. 

I  HAVE  changed  my  Belvern,  and  there  are  so  many 
others  left  to  choose  from  that  I  might  live  in  a  different 
Belvern  each  week.  North,  South,  East,  and  West  Bel- 
vern, New  Belvern,  Old  Belvern,  Great  Belvern,  Little 
Belvern,  Belvern  Link,  Belvern  Common,  and  Belvern 
Wells.  They  are  all  nestled  together  in  the  velvet  hol- 
lows or  on  the  wooded  crowns  of  the  matchless  Belvern 
Hills,  from  which  they  look  down  upon  the  fairest 
plains  that  ever  blessed  the  eye.  One  can  see  from 
[117] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

their  heights  a  score  of  market  towns  and  villages, 
three  splendid  cathedrals,  each  in  a  different  county,  the 
queenly  Severn  winding  like  a  silver  thread  among  the 
trees,  with  soft-flowing  Avon  and  gentle  Teme  watering 
the  verdant  meadows  through  which  they  pass.  All 
these  hills  and  dales  were  once  the  Royal  Forest,  and 
afterwards  the  Koyal  Chase,  of  Belvern,  covering  nearly 
seven  thousand  acres  in  three  counties  ;  and  from  the 
lonely  height  of  the  Beacon  no  less  than 

"  Twelve  fair  counties  saw  the  blaze  " 

of  signals,  when  the  country  was  threatened  by  a  Span- 
ish invasion.  As  for  me,  I  mourn  the  decay  of  Ro- 
mance with  a  great  R ;  we  have  it  still  among  us,  but 
we  spell  it  with  a  smaller  letter.  It  must  be  so  much 
more  interesting  to  be  threatened  with  an  invasion,  es- 
pecially a  Spanish  invasion,  than  with  a  strike,  for 
instance.  The  clashing  of  swords  and  the  flashing  of 
spears  in  the  sunshine  are  so  much  more  dazzling  and 
inspiring  than  a  line  of  policeman  with  clubs  !  Yes,  I 
wish  it  were  the  age  of  chivalry  again,  and  that  I  were 
looking  down  from  these  hills  into  the  Koyal  Chase. 
Of  course  I  know  that  there  were  wicked  and  selfish 
tyrants  in  those  days,  before  the  free  press,  the  jury 
system,  and  the  folding-bed  had  wrought  their  beneficent 
influences  upon  the  common  mind  and  heart.  Of  course 
they  would  have  sneered  at  Browning  Societies  and 
[118] 


r 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

improved  tenements,  and  of  course  they  did  not  care  a 
penny  whether  woman  had  the  ballot  or  not,  so  long  as 
man  had  the  bottle ;  but  I  would  that  the  other  moderns 
were  enjoying  the  modern  improvements,  and  that  I 
were  gazing  into  the  cool  depths  of  those  deep  forests 
where  there  were  once  good  lairs  for  the  wolf  and  wild 
boar.  I  should  like  to  hear  the  baying  of  the  hounds 
and  the  mellow  horns  of  the  huntsmen.  I  should  like 
to  see  the  royal  cavalcade  emerging  from  one  of  those 
wooded  glades :  monarch  and  baron  bold,  proud  prelate, 
abbot  and  prior,  belted  knight  and  ladye  fair,  sweeping 
in  gorgeous  array  under  the  arcades  of  the  overshadow- 
ing trees,  silver  spurs  and  jeweled  trappings  glittering 
in  the  sunlight,  princely  forms  bending  low  over  the 
saddles  of  the  court  beauties.  Why,  oh  why,  is  it  not 
possible  to  be  picturesque  and  pious  in  the  same  epoch  ? 
Why  may  not  chivalry  and  charity  go  hand  in  hand  ? 
It  amuses  me  to  imagine  the  amazement  of  the  barons, 
bold  and  belted  knights,  could  they  be  resuscitated  for  a 
sufficient  length  of  time  to  gaze  upon  the  hydropathic 
establishments  which  dot  their  ancient  hunting-grounds. 
It  would  have  been  very  difficult  to  interest  the  age  of 
chivalry  in  hydropathy. 

Such  is  the  fascination  of  historic  association  that  I 
am  sure,  if  I  could  drag  my  beloved  but  conscientious 
Saleinina  from  some  foreign  soup  kitchen  which  she  is 

[120] 


THE    DECAY    OF    ROMANCE 

doubtless  inspecting,  I  could  make  even  her  mourn  the 
vanished  past  with  me  this  morning,  on  the  Beacon's 
towering  head.  For  Salemina  wearies  of  the  age  of 
charity  sometimes,  as  every  one  does  who  is  trying  to 
make  it  a  beautiful  possibility. 


[121] 


Mrs.  Hobbs  "would  come  .  .  . 

and  ask  me  if  I  would  like  to  buy  a  foivl 


THE  manner  of  my  changing  from  West  to  North 
Belvern  was  this.  When  I  had  been  two  days  at  Holly 
House,  I  reflected  that  my  sitting-room  faced  the  wrong 
way  for  the  view,  and  that  my  bedroom  was  dark  and 
not  large  enough  to  swing  a  cat  in.  Not  that  there 
was  the  remotest  necessity  of  my  swinging  cats  in  it, 
but  the  figure  of  speech  is  always  useful.  Neither  did 
I  care  to  occupy  myself  with  the  perennial  inspection 
and  purchase  of  raw  edibles,  when  I  wished  to  live  in 
an  ideal  world  and  paint  a  great  picture.  Mrs.  Hobbs 
would  come  to  my  bedside  in  the  morning  and  ask  me 
[122] 


SHORT    STOPS    AND    LONG    BILLS 

if  I  would  like  to  buy  a  fowl.  When  I  looked  upon  the 
fowl,  limp  in  death,  with  its  headless  neck  hanging 
dejectedly  over  the  edge  of  the  plate,  its  giblets  and 
kidneys  lying  in  immodest  confusion  on  the  outside  of 
itself,  and  its  liver  "  tucked  under  its  wing,  poor  thing," 
I  never  wanted  to  buy  it.  But  one  morning,  in  taking 
my  walk,  I  chanced  upon  an  idyllic  spot :  the  front  of 
the  whitewashed  cottage  embowered  in  flowers,  bird- 
cages built  into  these  bowers,  a  little  notice  saying 
"  Canaries  for  Sale,"  and  an  English  rose  of  a  baby  sit- 
ting in  the  path  stringing  hollyhock  buds.  There  was 
no  apartment  sign,  but  I  walked  in,  ostensibly  to  buy 
some  flowers.  I  met  Mrs.  Bobby,  loved  her  at  first 
sight,  the  passion  was  reciprocal,  and  I  wheedled  her 
into  giving  me  her  own  sitting-room  and  the  bedroom 
above  it.  It  only  remained  now  for  me  to  break  my 
projected  change  of  residence  to  my  present  landlady, 
and  this  I  distinctly  dreaded.  Of  course  Mrs.  Hobbs 
said,  when  I  timidly  mentioned  the  subject,  that  she 
wished  she  had  known  I  was  leaving  an  hour  before, 
for  she  had  just  refused  a  lady  and  her  husband,  most 
desirable  persons,  who  looked  as  if  they  would  be  per- 
manent. Can  it  be  that  lodgers  radiate  the  permanent 
or  transitory  quality,  quite  unknown  to  themselves  ? 

I  was  very  much  embarrassed,  as  she  threatened  to 
become  tearful ;  and  as  I  was  determined  never  to  give 
up  Mrs.  Bobby,  I  said  desperately,  "  I  must  leave  you, 
[123] 


/  "wheedled  her  into  gi-ving 


own  sttting-room 


SHORT    STOPS    AND    LONG    BILLS 

Mrs.  Hobbs,  I  must  indeed  ;  but  as  you  seem  to  feel  so 
badly  about  it,  I  '11  go  out  and  find  you  another  lodger 
in  my  place." 

The  fact  is,  I  had  seen,  not  long  before,  a  lady  going 
in  and  out  of  houses,  as  I  had  done  on  the  night  of  my 
arrival,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  might  pursue  her, 
and  persuade  her  to  take  my  place  in  Holly  House  and 
buy  the  headless  fowl.  I  walked  for  nearly  an  hour 
before  I  was  rewarded  with  a  glimpse  of  my  victim's 
gray  dress  whisking  round  the  corner  of  Pump  Street. 
I  approached,  and,  with  a  smile  that  was  intended  to  be 
a  justification  in  itself,  I  explained  my  somewhat  un- 
usual mission.  She  was  rather  unreceptive  at  first ;  she 
thought  evidently  that  I  was  to  have  a  percentage  on 
her,  if  I  succeeded  in  capturing  her  alive  and  delivering 
her  to  Mrs.  Hobbs ;  but  she  was  very  weary  and  dis- 
couraged, and  finally  fell  in  with  my  plans.  She  ac- 
companied me  home,  was  introduced  to  Mrs.  Hobbs, 
and  engaged  my  rooms  from  the  following  day.  As  she 
had  a  sister,  she  promised  to  be  a  more  lucrative  incum- 
bent than  I ;  she  enjoyed  ordering  food  in  a  raw  state, 
did  not  care  for  views,  and  thought  purple  clematis 
vines  only  a  shelter  for  insects :  so  every  one  was  satis- 
fied, and  I  most  of  all  when  I  wrestled  with  Mrs. 
Hobbs's  itemized  bill  for  two  nights  and  one  day.  Her 
weekly  account  must  be  rolled  on  a  cylinder,  I  should 
think,  like  the  list  of  Don  Juan's  amours,  for  the  bill  of 
[125] 


PENELOPE  S    EXPERIENCES 

my  brief  residence  beneath  her  roof  was  quite  three  feet 
in  length,  each  of  the  following  items  being  set  down 
every  twenty-four  hours  :  — 

Apartments. 

Ale. 

Bath. 

Kidney  beans. 

Candles. 

Vegetable  marrow. 

Tea. 


Butter. 

Bread. 

Cut  off  joint. 

Plums. 

Potatoes. 

Chops. 

Kipper. 

Rasher. 

Salt. 

Pepper. 

Vinegar. 

Sugar. 

Washing  towels. 

Lights. 

Kitchen  fire. 

Sitting-room  fire. 

Attendance. 

Boots. 

The  total  was  seventeen  shillings  and  sixpence,  and 
5   Mrs.    Hobbs   wrote  upon  it,   in  her    neat   English 
[126] 


SHORT    STOPS    AND    LONG    BILLS 

hand,  "Received  payment,  with  respectful  thanks," 
she  carefully  blotted  the  wet  ink,  and  remarked  casually 
that  service  was  not  included  in  "  attendance,"  but  that 
she  would  leave  the  amount  to  me. 


[127] 


Mrs,  Bobby  brings  me  .  .  . 

•thing  to  eat 


MKS.  BOBBY  and  I  were  born  for  each  other,  though 
we  have  been  a  long  time  in  coming  together.  She  is 
the  pink  of  neatness  and  cheeriness,  and  she  has  a 
broad,  comfortable  bosom  on  which  one  might  lay  a 
motherless  head,  if  one  felt  lonely  in  a  stranger  land. 
[128] 


I    MEET    MRS.    BOBBY 

I  never  look  at  her  without  remembering  what  the 
poet  Samuel  Eogers  said  of  Lady  Parke ;  "  She  is  so 
good  that  when  she  goes  to  heaven  she  will  find  no 
difference  save  that  her  ankles  will  be  thinner  and  her 
head  better  dressed." 

No  raw  fowls  visit  my  bedside  here ;  food  comes  as 
I  wish  it  to  come  when  I  am  painting,  like  manna  from 
heaven.  Mrs.  Bobby  brings  me  three  times  a  day 
something  to  eat,  and  though  it  is  always  whatever  she 
likes,  I  always  agree  in  her  choice,  and  send  the  blue 
dishes  away  empty.  She  asked  me  this  morning  if  I 
enjoyed  my  "  h'egg,"  and  remarked  that  she  had  only 
one  fowl,  but  it  laid  an  egg  for  me  every  morning,  so  I 
might  know  it  was  "  fresh  as  fresh."  It  is  certainly 
convenient :  the  fowl  lays  the  egg  from  seven  to  seven 
thirty,  I  eat  it  from  eight  to  eight  thirty  ;  no  haste,  no 
waste.  Never  before  have  I  seen  such  heavenly  har- 
mony between  supply  and  demand.  Never  before  have 
I  been  in  such  visible  and  unbroken  connection  with 
the  source  of  my  food.  If  I  should  ever  desire  two 
eggs,  or  if  the  fowl  should  turn  sulky  or  indolent,  I 
suppose  Mrs.  Bobby  would  have  to  go  half  a  mile  to 
the  nearest  shop,  but  as  yet  everything  has  worked  to 
a  charm.  The  eow  is  milked  into  my  pitcher  in  the 
morning,  and  the  fowl  lays  her  egg  almost  literally  in 
my  egg-cup.  One  of  the  little  Bobbies  pulls  a  kidney 
bean  or  a  tomato  or  digs  a  potato  for  my  dinner,  about 
[129] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

half  an  hour  before  it  is  served.  There  is  a  sheep  in 
the  garden,  but  I  hardly  think  it  supplies  the  chops ; 
those,  at  least,  are  not  raised  on  the  premises. 

One  grievance  I  did  have  at  first,  but  Mrs.  Bobby 
removed  the  thorn  from  the  princess'  pillow  as  soon  as 
it  was  mentioned.  Our  next-door  neighbor  had  a  kennel 
of  homesick,  discontented,  and  sleepless  puppies  of 
various  breeds,  that  were  in  the  habit  of  howling  all 
night  until  Mrs.  Bobby  expostulated  with  Mrs.  Gooch 
in  my  behalf.  She  told  me  that  she  found  Mrs.  Gooch 
very  snorty,  very  snorty  indeed,  because  the  pups  were 
an  'obby  of  her  'usbant's ;  whereupon  Mrs.  Bobby  re- 
sponded that  if  Mrs.  Gooch's  'usbant  'ad  to  'ave  an 
'obby,  it  was  a  shame  it  'ad  to  be  'owling  pups  to  keep 
h'innocent  people  awake  o'  nights.  The  puppies  were 
removed,  but  I  almost  felt  guilty  at  finding  fault  with 
a  dog  in  this  country.  It  is  a  matter  of  constant  sur- 
prise to  me,  and  it  always  gives  me  a  warm  glow  in  the 
region  of  the  heart,  to  see  the  supremacy  of  the  dog  in 
England.  He  is  respected,  admired,  loved,  and  consid- 
ered, as  he  deserves  to  be  everywhere,  but  as  he  fre- 
quently is  not.  He  is  admitted  on  all  excursions  ;  he 
is  taken  into  the  country  for  his  health  ;  he  is  a  factor 
in  all  the  master's  plans ;  in  short,  the  English  dog  is 
a  member  of  the  family,  in  good  and  regular  standing. 

My  interior  surroundings  are  all  charming.  My  little 
I  turned  Mrs.  Bobby,  is 
[130] 


MEET    MRS.    BOBBY 


bright  with  potted  ferns  and  flowering  plants,  and  on 
its  walls,  besides  the  photographs  of  a  large  and  unusu- 
ally plain  family,  I  have  two  works  of  art  which  inspire 


fi 


An  ' 'obby  of  her  *usba 


me  anew  every  time  I  gaze  at  them  :  the  first,  a  Scrip- 
tural subject,  treated  by  an  enthusiastic  but  inexperi- 
enced hand,  "Susanne  dans  le  Bain,  surprise  par  les 
Deux  Vieillards  ;  "  the  second,  "  The  White  Witch  of 
Worcester  on  her  Way  to  the  Stake  at  High  Cross." 
[131J 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

The  unfortunate  lady  in  the  latter  picture  is  attired  in 
a  white  lawn  wrapper  with  angel  sleeves,  and  is  followed 
by  an  abbess  with  prayer-book,  and  eight  surpliced 
choir-boys  with  candles.  I  have  been  long  enough  in 
England  to  understand  the  significance  of  the  candles. 
Doubtless  the  White  Witch  had  paid  four  shillings  a 
week  for  each  of  them  in  her  prison  lodging,  and  she 
naturally  wished  to  burn  them  to  the  end. 

One  has  no  need,  though,  of  pictures  on  the  walls 
here,  for  the  universe  seems  unrolled  at  one's  very  feet. 
As  I  look  out  of  my  window  the  last  thing  before  I  go 
to  sleep,  I  see  the  lights  of  Great  Belvern,  the  dim 
shadows  of  the  distant  cathedral  towers,  the  quaint 
priory  seven  centuries  old,  and  just  the  outline  of  Holly 
Bush  Hill,  a  sacred  seat  of  magic  science  where  the 
Druids  investigated  the  secrets  of  the  stars,  and  sought, 
by  auspices  and  sacrifices,  to  forecast  the  future  and  to 
penetrate  the  designs  of  the  gods. 

It  makes  me  feel  very  new,  very  undeveloped,  to  look 
out  of  that  window.  If  I  were  an  Englishwoman,  say 
the  fifty -fifth  duchess  of  something,  I  could  easily  glow 
with  pride  to  think  that  I  was  part  and  parcel  of  such 
antiquity ;  the  fortunate  heiress  not  only  of  land  and 
titles,  but  of  historic  associations.  But  as  I  am  an 
American  with  a  very  recent  background,  I  blow  out 
my  candle  with  the  feeling  that  it  is  rather  grand  to  be 
making  history  for  somebody  else  to  inherit. 
[132] 


Sadly  lacking  in  concentration 


I  AM  almost  too  comfortable  with  Mrs.  Bobby.  In 
fact,  I  wished  to  be  just  a  little  miserable  in  Belvern, 
so  that  I  could  paint  with  a  frenzy.  Sometimes,  when 
I  have  been  in  a  state  of  almost  despairing  loneliness 
and  gloom,  the  colors  have  glowed  on  my  canvas  and 
the  lines  have  shaped  themselves  under  my  hand  inde- 
pendent of  my  own  volition.  Now,  tucked  away  in  a 
corner  of  my  consciousness  is  the  knowledge  that  I 
need  never  be  lonely  again  unless  I  choose.  When  I 
yield  myself  fully  to  the  sweet  enchantment  of  this 
[133] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

thought,  I  feel  myself  in  the  mood  to  paint  sunshine, 
flowers,  and  happy  children's  faces;  yet  I  am  sadly 
lacking  in  concentration,  all  the  same.  The  fact  is,  I 
am  no  artist  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word.  My  hope 
flies  ever  in  front  of  my  best  success,  and  that  momen- 
tary success  does  not  deceive  me  in  the  very  least.  I 
know  exactly  how  much,  or  rather  how  little,  I  am 
worth;  that  I  lack  the  imagination,  the  industry,  the 
training,  the  ambition,  to  achieve  any  lasting  results. 
I  have  the  artistic  temperament  in  so  far  that  it  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  work  merely  for  money  or  popularity, 
or  indeed  for  anything  less  than  the  desire  to  express 
the  best  that  is  in  me  without  fear  or  favor.  It  would 
never  occur  to  me  to  trade  on  present  approval  and  dash 
off  unworthy  stuff  while  I  have  command  of  the  market. 
I  am  quite  above  all  that,  but  I  am  distinctly  below  that 
other  mental  and  spiritual  level  where  art  is  enough ; 
where  pleasure  does  not  signify  ;  where  one  shuts  one's 
self  up  and  produces  from  sheer  necessity ;  where  one 
is  compelled  by  relentless  law ;  where  sacrifice  does  not 
count ;  where  ideas  throng  the  brain  and  plead  for  re- 
lease in  expression  ;  where  effort  is  joy,  and  the  pro- 
spect of  doing  something  enduring  lures  the  soul  on  to 
new  and  ever  new  endeavor  :  so  I  shall  never  be  rich  or 
famous. 

What  shall  I  paint  to-day  ?     Shall  it  be  the  bit  of 
garden  underneath  my  window,  with  the  tangle  of  pinks 
[134] 


THE    HEART    OF    THE    ARTIST 

and  roses,  and  the  cabbages  growing  appetizingly  beside 
the  sweet-williams,  the  woodbine  climbing  over  the 
brown  stone  wall,  the  wicket  gate,  and  the  cherry-tree 
with  its  fruit  hanging  red  against  the  whitewashed  cot- 
tage ?  Ah,  if  I  could  only  paint  it  so  truly  that  you 
could  hear  the  drowsy  hum  of  the  bees  among  the 
thyme,  and  smell  the  scented  hay -meadows  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  feel  that  it  is  midsummer  in  England !  That 
would  indeed  be  truth,  and  that  would  be  art.  Shall  I 
paint  the  Bobby  baby  as  he  stoops  to  pick  the  cowslips 
and  the  flax,  his  head  as  yellow  and  his  eyes  as  blue  as 
the  flowers  themselves  ;  or  that  bank  opposite  the  gate, 
with  its  gorse  bushes  in  golden  bloom,  its  mountain  ash 
hung  with  scarlet  berries,  its  tufts  of  harebells  blossom- 
ing in  the  crevices  of  rock,  and  the  quaint  low  clock 
tower  at  the  foot  ?  Can  I  not  paint  all  these  in  the 
full  glow  of  summer-time,  and  paint  them  all  the  better 
because  it  is  summer-time  in  my  secret  heart  whenever 
I  open  the  door  a  bit  and  admit  its  life-giving  warmth 
and  beauty  ?  I  think  I  can,  if  I  can  only  quit  dream- 
ing. 

I  wonder  how  the  great  artists  worked,  and  under 
what  circumstances  they  threw  aside  the  implements 
of  their  craft,  impatient  of  all  but  the  throb  of  life  it- 
self ?  Could  Raphael  paint  Madonnas  the  week  of  his 
betrothal  ?  Did  Thackeray  write  a  chapter  the  day  his 
daughter  was  born  ?  Did  Plato  philosophize  freely 
[135  J 


PENELOPE'S    EXPERIENCES 

when  he  was  in  love  ?  Were  there  interruptions  in  the 
world's  great  revolutions,  histories,  dramas,  reforms, 
poems,  and  marbles  when  their  creators  fell  for  a  brief 
moment  under  the  spell  of  the  little  blind  tyrant  who 
makes  slaves  of  us  all  ?  It  must  have  been  so.  Your 
chronometer  heart,  on  whose  pulsations  you  can  reckon 
as  on  the  procession  of  the  equinoxes,  never  gave  any- 
thing to  the  world  unless  it  were  a  system  of  diet,  or 
something  quite  uncolored  and  unglorified  by  the 
imagination. 


[136] 


When  she  fetches  the  donkey 

to  the  doo 


THERE  are  many  donkeys  owned  in  these  nooks 
among  the  hills,  and  some  of  the  thriftier  families  keep 
donkey-chairs  (or  "  cheers,"  as  they  call  them)  to  let  to 
the  casual  summer  visitor.  This  vehicle  is  a  regular 
Bath  chair,  into  which  the  donkey  is  harnessed.  Some 
of  them  have  a  tiny  driver's  seat,  where  a  small  lad  sits 
beating  and  berating  the  donkey  for  the  incumbent, 
generally  a  decrepit  dowager  from  London.  Other 
[137] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

chairs  are  minus  this  absurd  coachman's  perch,  and  in 
this  sort  I  take  my  daily  drives.  I  hire  the  miniature 
chariot  from  an  old  woman  who  dwells  at  the  top  of 
Gorse  Hill,  and  who  charges  one  and  fourpence  the 
hour.  It  is  a  little  more  when  she  fetches  the  donkey  to 
the  door,  or  when  the  weather  is  wet,  or  the  day  is  very 
warm,  or  there  is  an  unusual  breeze  blowing,  or  I  wish 
to  go  round  the  hills ;  but  under  ordinary  circumstances, 
which  may  at  any  time  occur,  but  which  never  do,  one 
and  four  the  hour.  It  is  only  a  shilling,  if  you  have  the 
boy  to  drive  you ;  but  of  course,  if  you  drive  yourself, 
you  throw  the  boy  out  of  employment,  and  have  to  pay 
extra. 

It  was  in  this  fashion  and  on  these  elastic  terms  that 
I  first  met  you,  Jane,  and  this  chapter  shall  be  sacred 
to  you  !  Jane  the  long-eared,  Jane  the  iron-jawed,  Jane 
the  stubborn,  Jane  donkier  than  other  donkeys,  —  in  a 
word,  mulier  !  It  may  be  that  Jane  has  made  her  bow 
to  the  public  before  this.  If  she  has  ever  come  into 
close  relation  with  man  or  woman  possessed  of  the  in- 
stinct of  self-expression,  then  this  is  certainly  not  her 
first  appearance  in  print,  for  no  human  being  could 
know  Jane  and  fail  to  mention  her. 

Pause,  Jane,  —  this  you  will  do  gladly,  I  am  sure, 

since  pausing  is  the  one  accomplishment  to  which  you 

lend  yourself  with  special  energy,  —  pause,  Jane,  while 

I  sing  a  canticle  to  your  character.     Jane  is  a  tiny  — 

[138] 


A   CANTICLE    TO    JANE 

person,  I  was  about  to  say,  for  she  has  so  strong  an 
individuality  that  I  can  scarcely  think  of  her  as  less 
than  human  —  Jane  is  a  tiny,  solemn  creature,  looking 
all  docility  and  decorum,  with  long  hair  of  a  subdued 
tan  color,  very  much  worn  off  in  patches,  I  fear,  by  the 
offending  toe  of  man. 

I  am  a  member  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of 
Cruelty  to  Animals,  and  I  hope  that  I  am  as  tender- 
hearted as  most  women ;  nevertheless,  I  can  understand 
how  a  man  of  weak  principle  and  violent  temper,  or  a 
man  possessed  of  a  desire  to  get  to  a  particular  spot 
not  favored  by  Jane,  or  by  a  wish  to  reach  any  spot  by 
a  certain  hour,  —  I  can  understand  how  such  a  man, 
carried  away  by  helpless  wrath,  might  possibly  ruffle 
Jane's  sad-colored  hair  with  the  toe  of  his  boot. 

Jane  is  small,  yet  mighty.  She  is  multum  in  parvo  ; 
she  is  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  in  animate  form ;  she  is 
cosmic  obstinacy  on  four  legs.  When  following  out  the 
devices  and  desires  of  her  own  heart,  or  resisting  the 
devices  and  desires  of  yours,  she  can  put  a  pressure  of 
five  hundred  tons  on  the  bit.  She  is  further  fortified 
by  the  possession  of  legs  which  have  iron  rods  concealed 
in  them,  these  iron  rods  terminating  in  stout  grip-hooks, 
with  which  she  takes  hold  on  mother  earth  with  an  ex- 
pression that  seems  to  say,  — 

"  This  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I." 
[139] 


PENELOPE'S    EXPERIENCES 

When  I  start  out  in  the  afternoon,  Mrs.  Bobby  fre- 
quently asks  me  where  I  am  going.  I  always  answer 
that  I  have  not  made  up  my  mind,  though  what  I  really 
mean  to  say  is  that  Jane  has  not  made  up  her  mind. 
She  never  makes  up  her  mind  until  after  I  have  made  up 
mine,  lest  by  some  unhappy  accident  she  might  choose 
the  very  excursion  that  I  desire  myself. 


[140] 


FOR  example,  I  wish  to  visit  St.  Bridget's  Well,  con- 
cerning which  there  are  some  quaint  old  verses  in  a 
village  history :  — 

"  Out  of  thy  famous  hille, 
There  daylie  springyeth, 
A  water  passynge  stille, 
That  alwayes  bringyeth 
Grete  comfort  to  all  them 
That  are  diseased  men, 
And  makes  them  well  again 
To  prayse  the  Lord. 

"  Hast  thou  a  wound  to  heale, 
The  wyche  doth  greve  thee  ; 
[141] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Come  thenn  unto  this  welle  ; 
It  will  relieve  thee  ; 
Nolie  me  tangeries, 
And  other  maladies, 
Have  there  theyr  remedies, 
Prays'd  be  the  Lord." 

St.  Bridget's  Well  is  a  beautiful  spot,  and  my  desire 
to  see  it  is  a  perfectly  laudable  one.  In  strict  justice, 
it  is  really  no  concern  of  Jane  whether  my  wishes  are 
laudable  or  not ;  but  it  only  makes  the  case  more  fla- 
grant when  she  interferes  with  the  reasonable  plans  of 
a  reasonable  being.  Never  since  the  day  we  first  met 
have  I  harbored  a  thought  that  I  wished  to  conceal 
from  Jane  (would  that  she  could  say  as  much  !) ;  never- 
theless she  treats  me  as  if  I  were  a  monster  of  caprice. 
As  I  said  before,  I  wish  to  visit  St.  Bridget's  Well,  but 
Jane  absolutely  refuses  to  take  me  there.  After  we 
pass  Belvern  churchyard  we  approach  two  roads :  the 
one  to  the  right  leads  to  the  Holy  Well ;  the  one  to  the 
left  leads  to  Shady  Dell  Farm,  where  Jane  lived  when 
she  was  a  girl.  At  the  critical  moment  I  pull  the  right 
rein  with  all  my  force.  In  vain  :  Jane  is  always  over- 
come by  sentiment  when  she  sees  that  left-hand  road. 
She  bears  to  the  left  like  a  whirlwind,  and  nothing  can 
stop  her  mad  career  until  she  is  again  amid  the  scenes 
so  dear  to  her  recollection,  the  beloved  pastures  where 
the  mother  still  lives  at  whose  feet  she  brayed  in  early 
youth. 

[142] 


I    REMEMBER,    I    REMEMBER 

Now  this  is  all  very  pretty  and  touching.  Her  action 
has,  in  truth,  its  springs  in  a  most  commendable  sen- 
timent that  I  should  be  the  last  to  underrate.  Shady 
Dell  Farm  is  interesting,  too,  for  once,  if  one  can  swal- 
low one's  wrath  and  dudgeon  at  being  taken  there 
against  one's  will;  and  one  feels  that  Jane's  parents 
and  Jane's  early  surroundings  must  be  worth  a  single 
visit,  if  they  could  produce  a  donkey  of  such  unusual 
capacity.  Still,  she  must  know,  if  she  knows  anything, 
that  a  person  does  not  come  from  America  and  pay 
one  and  fourpence  the  hour  (or  thereabouts)  merely 
in  order  to  visit  the  home  of  Her  girlhood,  which  is 
neither  mentioned  in  Baedeker  nor  set  down  in  the  local 
guide-books  as  a  feature  of  interest. 

Whether,  in  addition  to  her  affection  for  Shady  Dell 
Farm,  she  has  an  objection  to  St.  Bridget's  Well,  and 
thus  is  strengthened  by  a  double  motive,  I  do  not  know. 
She  may  consider  it  a  relic 'of  popish  superstition  ;  she 
may  be  a  Protestant  donkey  ;  she  is'  a  Dissenter,  — 
there 's  no  doubt  about  that. 

But,  you  ask,  have  you  tried  various  methods  of 
bringing  her  to  terms  and  gaining  your  own  desires  ? 
Certainly.  I  have  coaxed,  beaten,  prodded,  prayed.  I 
have  tried  leading  her  past  the  Shady  Dell  turn ;  she 
walks  all  over  my  feet,  and  then  starts  for  home,  I 
running  behind  until  I  can  catch  up  with  her.  I  have 
offered  her  one  and  tenpence  the  hour;  she  remained 
[143] 


PEXELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 


SAe  -walks  all  over  my  feet 

firm.     One  morning  I  had  a  happy  inspiration ;  I  de- 
termined on  conquering  Jane  by  a  subterfuge.     I  said 
[144] 


I    REMEMBER,    I    REMEMBER 

to  myself :  "  I  am  going  to  start  for  St.  Bridget's  Well, 
as  usual ;  several  yards  before  we  reach  the  two  roads, 
I  shall  begin  pulling,  not  the  right,  but  the  left  rein. 
Jane  will  lift  her  ears  suddenly  and  say  to  herself : 
'  What !  has  this  girl  fallen  in  love  with  my  birthplace 
at  last,  and  does  she  now  prefer  it  to  St.  Bridget's  Well  ? 
Then  she  shall  not  have  it ! '  Whereupon  Jane  will 
race  madly  down  the  right-hand  road  for  the  first  time, 
I  pulling  steadily  at  the  left  rein  to  keep  up  appearances, 
and  I  shall  at  last  realize  my  wishes." 

This  was  my  inspiration.  Would  you  believe  that 
it  failed  utterly  ?  It  should  have  succeeded  and  would 
with  an  ordinary  donkey,  but  Jane  saw  through  it. 
She  obeyed  my  pull  on  the  left  rein,  and  went  to  Shady 
Dell  Farm  as  usual. 

Another  of  Jane's  eccentricities  is  a  violent  aversion 
to  perambulators.  As  Belvern  is  a  fine,  healthy,  grow- 
ing country,  with  steadily  increasing  population,  the 
roads  are  naturally  alive  with  perambulators ;  or  at  least 
alive  with  the  babies  inside  the  perambulators.  These 
are  the  more  alarming  to  the  timid  eye  in  that  many  of 
them  are  double-barreled,  so  to  speak,  and  are  loaded  to 
the  muzzle  with  babies ;  for  not  only  do  Belvern  babies 
frequently  appear  as  twins,  but  there  are  often  two 
youngsters  of  a  perambulator  age  in  the  same  family  at 
the  same  time.  To  weave  that  donkey  and  that  Bath 
"  cheer  "  through  the  narrow  streets  of  the  various  Bel- 
[145] 


PENELOPE'S   EXPERIENCES 

veins  without  putting  to  death  any  babies,  and  without 
engendering  the  outspoken  condemnation  of  the  scream- 
ing mothers  and  nursery  maids,  is  a  task  for  a  Jehu.  Of 
course  Jane  makes  it  more  difficult  by  lunging  into  one 
perambulator  in  avoiding  another,  but  she  prefers  even 
that  risk  to  the  degradation  of  treading  the  path  I  wish 
her  to  tread. 

I  often  wish  that  for  one  brief  moment  I  might  re- 
move the  lid  of  Jane's  brain  and  examine  her  mental 
processes.  She  would  not  exasperate  me  so  deeply  if  I 
could  be  certain  of  her  springs  of  action.  Is  she  old,  is 
she  rheumatic,  is  she  lazy,  is  she  hungry  ?  Sometimes 
I  think  she  means  well,  and  is  only  ignorant  and  dull ; 
but  this  hypothesis  grows  less  and  less  tenable  as  I 
know  her  better.  Sometimes  I  conclude  that  she  does 
not  understand  me;  that  the  difference  in  nationality 
may  trouble  her.  If  an  Englishman  cannot  understand 
an  American  woman  all  at  once,  why  should  an  English 
donkey?  Perhaps  it  takes  an  American  donkey  to 
comprehend  an  American  woman.  Yet  I  cannot  bring 
myself  to  drive  any  other  donkey  ;  I  am  always  hoping 
to  impress  myself  on  her  imagination,  and  conquer  ner 
will  through  her  fancy.  Meanwhile,  I  like  to  feel  my- 
self in  the  grasp  of  a  nature  stronger  than  my  own,  and 
so  I  hold  to  Jane,  and  buy  a  photograph  of  St.  Bridget's 
Well! 

[146] 


IT  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  sud- 
denly heard  a  strange  sound,  that  of  our  fowl  cackling. 
Yesterday  I  heard  her  telltale  note  about  noon,  and  the 
clay  before  just  as  I  was  eating  my  breakfast.  I  knew 
that  it  would  be  so  !  The  serpent  has  entered  Eden. 
That  fowl  has  laid  before  eight  in  the  morning  for  three 
weeks  withoxit  interruption,  and  she  has  now  entered 
upon  a  career  of  wild  and  reckless  uncertainty  which 
compels  me  to  eat  eggs  from  twelve  to  twenty -four  hours 
old,  just  as  if  I  were  in  London. 

Alas  for  the  rarity 
Of  regularity 
Under  the  sun  ! 

[147] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

A  hen,  being  of  the  feminine  gender,  underestimates 
the  majesty  of  order  and  system ;  she  resents  any  ap- 
proach to  the  unimaginative  monotony  of  the  machine. 
Probably  the  Confederated  Fowl  Union  has  been  med- 
dling with  our  little  paradise  where  Labor  and  Capital 
have  dwelt  in  heavenly  unity  until  now.  Nothing  can 
be  done  about  it,  of  course ;  even  if  it  were  possible 
to  communicate  with  the  fowl,  she  would  say,  I  sup- 
pose, that  she  would  lay  when  she  was  ready,  and  not 
before ;  at  least,  that  is  what  an  American  hen  would 
say. 

Just  as  I  was  brooding  over  these  mysteries  and  try- 
ing to  hatch  out  some  conclusions,  Mrs.  Bobby  knocked 
at  the  door,  and,  coming  in,  courtseyed  very  low  before 
saying,  "  It 's  about  namiu'  the  'ouse,  miss." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Pray  don't  stand,  Mrs.  Bobby ;  take  a 
chair.  I  am  not  very  busy  ;  I  am  only  painting  prickles 
on  my  gorse  bushes,  so  we  will  talk  it  over." 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  give  you  Mrs.  Bobby's  dialect, 
in  reporting  my  various  interviews  with  her,  for  the 
spelling  of  it  is  quite  beyond  my  powers.  Pray  remove 
all  the  A's  wherever  they  occur,  and  insert  them  where 
they  do  not ;  but  there  will  be,  over  and  beyond  this, 
an  intonation  quite  impossible  to  render. 

Mrs.  Bobby  bought  her  place  only  a  few  months  ago, 
for  she  lived  in  Cheltenham  before  Mr.  Bobby  died. 
The  last  incumbent  had  probably  been  of  Welsh  ex- 
[148] 


COMFORT    COTTAGE 

traction,  for  the  cottage  had  been  named  "  Dan-y-Cefn." 
Mrs.  Bobby  declared,  however,  that  she  would  n't  have 
a  heathenish  name  posted  on  her  house,  and  expect  her 
friends  to  pronounce  it  when  she  could  n't  pronounce  it 
herself.  She  seemed  grieved  when  at  first  I  could  not 
see  the  absolute  necessity  of  naming  the  cottage  at  all, 
telling  her  that  in  America  we  named  only  grand  places. 
She  was  struck  dumb  with  amazement  at  this  piece  of 
information,  and  failed  to  conceive  of  the  confusion 
that  must  ensue  in  villages  where  streets  were  scarcely 
named  or  houses  numbered.  I  confess  it  had  never 
occurred  to  me  that  our  manner  of  doing  was  highly 
inconvenient,  if  not  impossible,  and  I  approached  the 
subject  of  the  name  with  more  interest  and  more 
modesty. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Bobby,"  I  began,  "  it  is  to  be  Cottage ; 
we  've  decided  that,  have  we  not  ?  It  is  to  be  Cottage, 
not  House,  Lodge,  Mansion,  or  Villa.  We  cannot  name 
it  after  any  flower  that  blows,  because  they  are  all 
taken.  Have  all  the  trees  been  used  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  miss,  yes,  miss,  all  but  h'ash-tree,  and 
we  'ave  no  h'ash." 

"  Very  good,  we  must  follow  another  plan.  Family 
names  seem  to  be  chosen,  such  as  Gower  House,  Marston 
Villa,  and  the  like.  '  Bobby  Cottage '  is  not  pretty. 
What  was  your  maiden  name,  Mrs.  Bobby  ?  " 

"Buggins,  thank  you,  miss,  'Elizabeth  Buggins, 
[149] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

Licensed  to  sell  Poultry,'  was  my  name  and  title  when 
I  met  Mr.  Bobby." 

"  I  'm  sorry,  but  '  Buggins  Cottage '  is  still  more  im- 
possible than  '  Bobby  Cottage.'  Now  here 's  another 
idea :  where  were  you  born,  Mrs.  Bobby  ?  " 

"  In  Snitterfield,  thank  you,  miss." 

"  Dear,  dear  !  how  unserviceable  ! " 

"  Thank  you,  miss." 

"  Where  was  Mr.  Bobby  born  ?  " 

"  He  never  mentioned,  miss." 

(Mr.  Bobby  must  have  been  expansive,  for  they  were 
married  twenty  years.) 

"  There  is  always  Victoria  or  Albert,"  I  said  tenta- 
tively, as  I  wiped  my  brushes. 

"  Yes,  miss,  but  with  all  respect  to  her  Majesty,  them 
names  give  me  a  turn  when  I  see  them  on  the  gates,  I 
am  that  sick  of  them." 

"  True.  Can  we  call  it  anything  that  will  suggest  its 
situation  ?  Is  there  a  Hill  Crest  ?  " 

"  Yes,  miss,  there  is  '111  Crest,  '111  Top,  '111  View,  '111 
Side,  '111  End,  H'under  '111,  '111  Bank,  and  '111  Ter- 
race." 

"  I  should  think  that  would  do  for  Hill." 

"Thank  you,  miss.  'Ow  would  'The  'Edge'  do, 
miss  ?  " 

"But  we  have  no  hedge."     (She  shall  not  have  any- 
thing with  an  h  in  it,  if  I  can  help  it.) 
[150] 


Irs.  Bobby  settled  herself 
on  the  porch  ivith  a  pan  of  peas 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

"No,  miss,  but  I  thought  I  might  set  out  a  bit,  if 
worst  come  to  worst." 

"  And  wait  three  or  four  years  before  people  would 
know  why  the  cottage  was  named?  Oh,  no,  Mrs. 
Bobby." 

"  Thank  you,  miss." 

"  We  might  have  something  quite  out  of  the  common, 
like  '  Providence  Cottage,'  down  the  bank.  I  don't 
know  why  Mrs.  Jones  calls  it  Providence  Cottage, 
unless  she  thinks  it 's  a  providence  that  she  has  one  at 
all ;  or  because,  as  it 's  just  on  the  edge  of  the  hill,  she 
thinks  it 's  a  providence  that  it  has  n't  blown  off.  How 
would  you  like  <  Peace  '  or  <  Best'  Cottage  ?  " 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  miss,  it 's  neither  peace  nor 
rest  I  gets  in  it  these  days,  with  a  twenty-five  pound 
debt  'anging  over  me,  and  three  children  to  feed  and 
clothe." 

"I  fear  we  are  not  very  clever,  Mrs.  Bobby,  or  we 
should  hit  upon  the  right  thing  with  less  trouble.  I 
know  what  I  will  do :  I  will  go  down  in  the  road  and 
look  at  the  place  for  a  long  time  from  the  outside, 
and  try  to  think  what  it  suggests  to  me." 

"  Thank  you,  miss ;  and  I  'm  sure  I  'm  grateful  for  all 
the  trouble  you  are  taking  with  my  small  affairs." 

Down  I  went,  and  leaned  over  the  wicket  gate,  gazing 
at  the  unnamed  cottage.  The  bricked  pathway  was 
scrubbed  as  clean  as  a  penny,  and  the  stone  step  and 
[152] 


COMFORT    COTTAGE 

the  floor  of  the  little  kitchen  as  well.  The  garden  was 
a  maze  of  fragrant  bloom,  with  never  a  weed  in  sight. 
The  fowl  cackled  cheerily  still,  adding  insult  to  injury, 
the  pet  sheep  munched  grass  contentedly,  and  the  cana- 
ries sang  in  their  cages  under  the  vines.  Mrs.  Bobby 
settled  herself  on  the  porch  with  a  pan  of  peas  in  her 
neat  gingham  lap,  and  all  at  once  I  cried :  — 

"  '  Comfort  Cottage  ' !  It  is  the  very  essence  of  com- 
fort, Mrs.  Bobby,  even  if  there  is  not  absolute  peace  or 
rest.  Let  me  paint  the  signboard  for  you  this  very 
day." 

Mrs.  Bobby  was  most  complacent  over  the  name. 
She  had  the  greatest  confidence  in  my  judgment,  and 
the  characterization  pleased  her  housewifely  pride,  so 
much  so  that  she  flushed  with  pleasure  as  she  said  that 
if  she  'ad  'er  'ealth  she  thought  she  could  keep  the  place 
looking  so  that  the  passers-by  would  easily  h'understand 
the  name. 


[153] 


Her  eldest  son 

is  in  a  blacksmith  shop 


IT  was  some  days  after  the  naming  of  the  cottage 
that  Mrs.  Bobby  admitted  me  into  her  financial  secrets, 
and  explained  the  difficulties  that  threatened  her  peace 
of  mind.  She  still  has  twenty-five  pounds  to  pay  before 
Comfort  Cottage  is  really  her  own.  With  her  cow  and 
her  vegetable  garden,  to  say  nothing  of  her  procrastinat- 
ing fowl,  she  manages  to  eke  out  a  frugal  existence, 
now  that  her  eldest  son  is  in  a  blacksmith's  shop  at 
[154] 


TEA    SERVED    HERE 

Worcester  and  is  sending  her  part  of  his  weekly  savings. 
But  it  has  been  a  poor  season  for  canaries,  and  a  still 
poorer  one  for  lodgers ;  for  people  in  these  degenerate 
days  prefer  to  be  nearer  the  hotels  and  the  mild  gaye- 
ties  of  the  larger  settlements.  It  is  all  very  well  so 
long  as  I  remain  with  her,  and  she  wishes  fervently 
that  that  may  be  forever  ;  for  never,  she  says  eloquently, 
never  in  all  her  Cheltenham  and  Belvern  experience, 
has  she  encountered  such  a  jewel  of  a  lodger  as  her  dear 
Miss  'Amilton.  so  little  trouble,  and  always  a  bit  of 
praise  for  her  plain  cooking,  and  a  pleasant  word  for 
the  children,  to  whom  most  lodgers  object,  and  such  an 
interest  in  the  cow  and  the  fowl  and  the  garden  and  the 
canaries,  and  such  kindness  in  painting  the  name  of  the 
cottage,  so  that  it  is  the  finest  thing  in  the  village,  and 
nobody  can  get  past  the  'ouse  without  stopping  to  gape 
at  it !  But  when  her  American  lodger  leaves  her,  she 
asks,  —  and  who  is  she  that  can  expect  to  keep  a  beau- 
tiful young  lady  who  will  be  naming  her  own  cottage 
and  painting  signboards  for  herself  before  long,  likely  ? 
—  but  when  her  American  lodger  is  gone,  how  is  she, 
Mrs.  Bobby,  to  put  by  a  few  shillings  a  month  towards 
the  debt  on  the  cottage  ?  These  are  some  of  the  prob- 
lems she  presents  to  me.  I  have  turned  them  over  and 
over  in  my  mind  as  I  have  worked,  and  even  asked 
Willie  Beresford  in  my  weekly  letter  what  he  could 
suggest.  Of  course  he  could  not  suggest  anything; 
[155] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

men  never  can ;  although  he  offered  to  come  there  and 
lodge  for  a  month  at  twenty-five  pounds  a  week.  All 
at  once,  one  morning,  a  happy  idea  struck  me,  and  I  ran 
down  to  Mrs.  Bobby,  who  was  weeding  the  onion  bed 
in  the  back  garden. 

"Mrs.  Bobby,"  I  said,  sitting  down  comfortably  on 
the  edge  of  the  lettuce-frame,  "  I  am  sure  I  know  how 
you  can  earn  many  a  shilling  during  the  summer  and 
autumn  months,  and  you  must  begin  the  experiment 
while  I  am  here  to  advise  you.  I  want  you  to  serve 
five  o'clock  tea  in  your  garden." 

"  But,  miss,  thanking  you  kindly,  nobody  would  think 
of  stoppin'  'ere  for  a  cup  of  tea  once  in  a  twelvemonth." 

"  You  never  know  what  people  will  do  until  you  try 
them.  People  will  do  almost  anything,  Mrs.  Bobby,  if 
you  only  put  it  into  their  heads;  and  this  is  the  way  we 
shall  make  our  suggestion  to  the  public.  I  will  paint  a 
second  signboard  to  hang  below  '  Comfort  Cottage.'  It 
will  be  much  more  beautiful  than  the  other,  for  it  shall 
have  a  steaming  kettle  on  it,  and  a  cup  and  saucer,  and 
the  words  '  Tea  Served  Here '  underneath,  the  letters 
all  intertwined  with  tea  plants.  I  don't  know  how  tea 
plants  look,  but  then  neither  does  the  public.  You  will 
set  one  round  table  on  the  porch,  so  that  if  it  threatens 
rain,  as  it  sometimes  does,  you  know,  in  England,  peo- 
ple will  not  be  afraid  to  sit  down ;  and  the  other  you 
will  put  under  the  yew-tree  near  the  gate.  The  tables 
[156] 


''       { •'  Staffing  to  gape  at  it 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

must  be  immaculate ;  no  spotted,  rumpled  cloths  and 
chipped  cups  at  Comfort  Cottage,  which  is  to  be  a  strictly 
first-class  tea  station.  You  will  put  vases  of  flowers  on 
the  tables,  and  you  will  not  mix  red,  yellow,  purple,  and 
blue  ones  in  the  same  vase  "  — 

"  It 's  the  way  the  good  Lord  mixes  'em  in  the  fields," 
interjected  Mrs.  Bobby  piously. 

"  Very  likely  ;  but  you  will  permit  me  to  remark  that 
the  good  Lord  can  manage  things  successfully  which 
we  poor  humans  cannot.  You  will  set  out  your  cream 
jug  that  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Martha  Buggins  by  her 
friends  and  neighbors  as  a  token  of  respect  in  1823,  and 
the  bowl  that  was  presented  to  Mr.  Bobby  as  a  sword 
and  shooting  prize  in  1860,  and  all  your  pretty  little 
odds  and  ends.  You  will  get  everything  ready  in  the 
kitchen,  so  that  customers  won't  have  to  wait  long ;  but 
you  will  not  prepare  much  in  advance,  so  that  there  '11 
be  nothing  wasted." 

"It  sounds  beautiful  in  your  mouth,  miss,  and  it 
surely  would  n't  be  any  'arm  to  make  a  trial  of  it." 

"Of  course  it  won't.  There  is  no  inn  here  where 
nice  people  will  stop  (who  would  ever  think  of  asking 
for  tea  at  The  Retired  Soldier  ?),  and  the  moment  they 
see  our  sign,  in  walking  or  driving  past,  that  moment 
they  will  be  consumed  with  thirst.  You  do  not  begin 
to  appreciate  our  advantages  as  a  tea  station.  In  the 
first  place,  there  is  a  watering-trough  not  far  from  the 
[158] 


In  full  chase  of  our  co 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

gate,  and  drivers  very  often  stop  to  water  their  horses  ; 
then  we  have  the  lovely  garden  which  everybody  ad- 
mires ;  and  if  everything  else  fails,  there  is  the  baby. 
Put  that  faded  pink  flannel  slip  on  Jem,  showing  his 
tanned  arms  and  legs  as  usual,  tie  up  his  sleeves  with 
blue  bows  as  you  did  last  Sunday,  put  my  white  tennis 
cap  on  the  back  of  his  yellow  curls,  turn  him  loose  in 
the  hollyhocks,  and  await  results.  Did  I  not  open  the 
gate  the  moment  I  saw  him,  though  there  was  no  apart- 
ment sign  in  the  window  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bobby  was  overcome  by  the  magic  of  my  argu- 
ments, and  as  there  were  positively  no  attendant  risks,  we 
decided  on  an  early  opening.  The  very  next  day  after 
the  hanging  of  the  second  sign,  I  superintended  the 
arrangements  myself.  It  was  a  nice  thirsty  afternoon, 
and  as  I  filled  the  flower  vases  I  felt  such  a  desire  for 
custom  and  such  a  love  of  trade  animating  me  that  I 
was  positively  ashamed.  At  three  o'clock  I  went  up- 
stairs and  threw  myself  on  the  bed  for  a  nap,  for  I  had 
been  sketching  on  the  hills  since  early  morning.  It 
may  have  been  an  hour  later  when  I  heard  the  sound  of 
voices  and  the  stopping  of  a  heavy  vehicle  before  the 
house.  I  stole  to  the  front  window,  and  peeping  under 
the  shelter  of  the  vines,  saw  a  char-a-bancs,  on  the  way 
from  Great  Belvern  to  the  Beacon.  It  held  three  gen- 
tlemen, two  ladies,  and  four  children,  and  everything 
had  worked  precisely  as  I  intended.  The  driver  had 
[160] 


TEA    SERVED    HERE 

seen  the  -watering-trough,  the  gentlemen  had  seen  the 
tea  sign,  the  children  had  seen  the  flowers  and  the  cana- 
ries, and  the  ladies  had  seen  the  baby.  I  went  to  the 
back  window  to  call  an  encouraging  word  to  Mrs.  Bobby, 
but  to  my  horror  I  saw  that  worthy  woman  disappear- 
ing at  the  extreme  end  of  the  lane  in  full  chase  of  our 
cow,  that  had  broken  down  the  fence,  and  was  now  at 
large,  with  some  of  our  neighbor's  turnip  tops  hanging 
from  her  mouth. 


[161] 


Showed  them  to  the  table. 


RUIN  stared  us  in  the  face.  Were  our  cherished 
plans  to  be  frustrated  by  a  marauding  cow,  who  little 
realized  that  she  was  imperiling  her  own  means  of  exist- 
ence ?  Were  we  to  turn  away  three,  five,  nine  thirsty 
customers  at  one  fell  swoop  ?  Never  !  None  of  these 
people  ever  saw  me  before,  nor  would  ever  see  me  again. 
What  was  to  prevent  my  serving  them  with  tea  ?  I  had 
on  a  pink  cotton  gown,  —  that  was  well  enough ;  I  has- 
tily buttoned  on  a  clean  painting-apron,  and  seizing  a 
freshly  laundered  cushion  cover  lying  on  the  bureau, 
a  square  of  lace  and  embroidery,  I  pinned  it  on  my  hair 
for  a  cap  while  descending  the  stairs.  Everything  was 
[162] 


AN    UNLICENSED    VICTUALER 

right  in  the  kitchen,  for  Mrs.  Bobby  had  flown  in  the 
midst  of  her  preparations.  The  loaf,  the  bread  knife, 
the  butter,  the  marmalade,  all  stood  on  the  table,  and 
the  kettle  was  boiling.  I  set  the  tea  to  draw,  and  then 
dashed  to  the  door,  bowed  appetizingly  to  the  visitors, 
showed  them  to  the  tables  with  a  winning  smile  (which 
was  to  be  extra),  seated  the  children  maternally  on  the 
steps  and  laid  napkins  before  them,  dashed  back  to  the 
kitchen,  cut  the  thin  bread  and  butter  and  brought  it 
with  the  marmalade,  asked  my  customers  if  they  desired 
cream  and  told  them  it  was  extra,  went  back  and  brought 
a  tray  with  tea,  boiling  water,  milk,  and  cream.  Low- 
ering my  voice  to  an  English  sweetness,  and  dropping  a 
few  A's  ostentatiously  as  I  answered  questions,  I  poured 
five  cups  of  tea,  and  four  mugs  for  the  children,  and 
cut  more  bread  and  butter,  for  they  were  all  eating  like 
wolves.  They  praised  the  butter.  I  told  them  it  was  a 
specialty  of  the  house.  They  requested  muffins.  With 
a  smile  of  heavenly  sweetness  tinged  with  regret,  I  re- 
plied that  Saturday  was  our  muffin  day :  Saturday, 
muffins ;  Tuesday,  crumpets ;  Thursday,  scones  ;  and 
Friday,  tea-cakes.  This  inspiration  sprang  into  being 
full  grown,  like  Pallas  from  the  brain  of  Zeus.  While 
they  were  regretting  that  they  had  come  on  a  plain 
bread-and-butter  day,  I  retired  to  the  kitchen  and  made 
out  a  bill  for  presentation  to  the  oldest  man  of  the 
party. 

[163] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

«.  d. 

Nine  teas 36 

Cream 3 

Bread  and  butter 10 

Marmalade 6 


Feeling  five  and  threepence  to  be  an  absurdly  small 
charge  for  five  adult  and  four  infant  teas,  I  destroyed 
this  immediately,  and  made  out  another,  putting  each 
item  fourpence  more,  and  the  bread  and  butter  at  one 
and  six.  I  also  introduced  ninepence  for  extra  teas  for 
the  children,  who  had  had  two  mugs  apiece,  very  weak. 
This  brought  the  total  to  six  shillings  and  tenpence, 
and  I  was  beset  by  a  horrible  temptation  to  add  a  shil- 
ling or  two  for  candles ;  there  was  one  young  man 
among  the  three  who  looked  as  if  he  would  have  under- 
stood the  joke. 

The  father  of  the  family  looked  at  the  bill,  and  re- 
marked quizzically,  "  Bond  Street  prices,  eh  ?  " 

"  Bond  Street  service,"  said  I,  curtesying  demurely. 

He  paid  it  without  flinching,  and  gave  me  sixpence 
for  myself.  I  was  very  much  afraid  he  would  chuck 
me  under  the  chin  ;  they  are  always  chucking  barmaids 
under  the  chin  in  old  English  novels,  but  I  have  never 
seen  it  done  in  real  life.  As  they  strolled  down  to  the 
gate,  the  second  gentleman  gave  me  another  sixpence, 
and  the  nice  young  fellow  gave  me  a  shilling ;  he  cer- 
[164] 


Bond  Street  prices,  eh  f 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

tainly  had  read  the  old  English  novels  and  remembered 
them,  so  I  kept  with  the  children.  One  of  the  ladies 
then  asked  if  we  sold  flowers. 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied. 

"  What  do  you  ask  for  roses  ?  " 

"Fourpence  apiece  for  the  fine  ones,"  I  answered 
glibly,  hoping  it  was  enough,  "thrippence  for  the 
smaller  ones ;  sixpence  for  a  bunch  of  sweet  peas,  tup- 
pence apiece  for  buttonhole  carnations." 

Each  of  the  ladies  took  some  roses  and  mignonette, 
and  the  gentlemen,  who  did  not  care  for  carnations  in 
the  least,  weakened  when  I  approached  modestly  to  pin 
them  in  their  coats,  a  la  barmaid. 

At  this  moment  one  of  the  children  began  to  tease 
for  a  canary. 

"  Have  you  one  for  sale  ?  "  inquired  the  fond  mother. 

"Certainly,  madam."  (I  was  prepared  to  sell  the 
cottage  by  this  time.) 

«  What  do  you  ask  for  them  ?  " 

.Rapid  calculation  on  my  part,  excessively  difficult 
without  pencil  and  paper.  A  canary  is  three  to  five 
dollars  in  America,  —  that  is,  from  twelve  shillings  to 
a  pound ;  then  at  a  venture,  "  From  ten  shillings  to  a 
guinea,  madam,  according  to  the  quality  of  the  bird." 

"  Would  you  like  one  for  your  birthday,  Margaret, 
and  do  you  think  you  can  feed  it,  and  take  quite  good 
care  of  it  ?  " 

[166] 


AN    UNLICENSED    VICTUALER 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma  !  " 

"  Have  you  a  cage  ?  "  to  me  inquiringly. 

"  Certainly,  madam  ;  it  is  not  a  new  one,  but  I  shall 
only  charge  you  a  shilling  for  it."  (Impromptu  plan : 
not  knowing  whether  Mrs.  Bobby  had  any  cages,  or  if 
so  where  she  kept  them,  to  remove  the  canary  in  Mrs. 


r 

A  la  barmaid 


Bobby's  chamber  from  the  small  wooden  cage  it  inhab- 
ited, close  the  windows,  and  leave  it  at  large  in  the 
room ;  then  bring  out  the  cage  and  sell  it  to  the  lady.) 

"  Very  well,  then,  please  select  me  a  good  singer  for 
about  twelve  shillings  |  a  very  yellow  one,  please." 

I  did  so.  I  had  no  difficulty  about  the  color  ;  but  as 
the  birds  all  stopped  singing  when  I  put  my  hand  into 
[167] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

the  cages,  I  was  somewhat  at  a  loss  to  choose  a  really 
fine  performer.  I  did  my  best,  with  the  result  that  it 
turned  out  to  be  the  mother  of  several  fine  families, 
but  no  vocalist,  and  the  generous  young  man  brought  it 
back  for  an  exchange  some  days  afterwards ;  not  only 
that,  but  he  came  three  times  during  the  next  week 
and  nearly  ruined  his  nervous  system  with  tea. 

The  party  finally  mounted  the  char-a-bancs,  just  as  I 
was  about  to  offer  the  baby  for  twenty-five  pounds,  and 
dirt  cheap  at  that ;  meanwhile,  I  gave  the  driver  a  cup 
of  lukewarm  tea,  for  which  I  refused  absolutely  to 
accept  any  remuneration. 

I  had  cleared  the  tables  before  Mrs.  Bobby  returned, 
flushed  and  panting,  with  the  guilty  cow.  Never  shall 
I  forget  that  good  dame's  astonishment,  her  mild  depre- 
cations, her  smiles,  —  nay,  her  tears,  —  as  she  inspected 
my  truly  English  account  and  received  the  silver. 

s.  d. 

Nine  teas 36 

Cream 7 

Bread  and  butter 16 

Extra  teas 9 

Marmalade ' 6 

Three  tips 20 

Four  roses  and  mignonette 18 

Three  carnations 6 

Canary 12  0 

Cage 10 

24  0 
[168] 


AN    UNLICENSED    VICTUALER 


I  told  her  I  regretted  deeply  putting  down  the  mar- 
malade so  low  as  sixpence ;  but  as  they  had  not  touched 
it,  it  did  not  matter  so  much,  as  the  entire  outlay  for 
the  entertainment  had  been  only  about  a  shilling.  On 


A  cup  of  lukewarm  tea 


that  modest  investment,  I  considered  one  pound  three 
shillings  a  very  fair  sum  to  be  earned  by  an  inexperi- 
enced "licensed  victualer"  like  myself,  particularly  as 
I  am  English  only  by  adoption,  and  not  by  birth. 


[169] 


I  ESSAYED  another  nap  after  this  exciting  episode.  I 
heard  the  gate  open  once  or  twice,  but  a  single  stray 
customer,  after  my  hungry  and  generous  horde,  did 
not  stir  my  curiosity,  and  I  sank  into  a  refreshing 
slumber,  dreaming  that  Willie  Beresford  and  I  kept  an 
English  inn,  and  that  I  was  the  barmaid.  This  blissful 
vision  had  been  of  all  too  short  duration  when  I  was 
awakened  by  Mrs.  Bobby's  apologetic  voice. 

"  It  is  too  bad  to  disturb  you,  miss,  but  I  've  got  to  go 
and  patch  up  the  fence,  and  smooth  over  the  matter  of 
the  turnips  with  Mrs.  Gooch,  who  is  that  snorty  I  don't 
know  'ow  ever  I  can  pacify  her.  There  is  nothing  for 
you  to  do,  miss,  only  if  you  '11  kindly  keep  an  eye  on 
[170] 


ET    EGO    IN    ARCADIA    VIXIT 

the  customer  at  the  yew-tree  table.  He  's  been  here  for 
'alf  an  hour,  miss,  and  I  think  more  than  likely  he 's  a 
foreigner,  by  his  actions,  or  may  be  he 's  not  quite  right 
in  his  'ead,  though  'armless.  He  has  taken  four  cups  of 
tea,  miss,  and  Billy  saw  him  turn  two  of  them  into  the 
'olly'ocks.  He  has  been  feeding  bread  and  butter  to 
the  dog,  and  now  the  baby  is  on  his  knee,  playing  with 
his  fine  gold  watch.  He  gave  me  an  'alf  crown  and 
refused  to  take  a  penny  change  ;  but  why  does  he  stop 
so  long,  miss?  I  can't  help  worriting  over  the  silver 
cream  jug  that  was  my  mother's." 

Mrs.  Bobby  disappeared.  I  rose  lazily,  and  approached 
the  window  to  keep  my  promised  eye  on  the  mysteri- 
ous customer.  I  lifted  back  the  purple  clematis  to  get 
a  better  view. 

It  was  Willie  Beresford !  He  looked  up  at  my  ejacu- 
lation of  surprise,  and,  dropping  the  baby  as  if  it  had 
been  a  parcel,  strode  under  the  window. 

/  (gasping).     "  How  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

He.    "  By  the  usual  methods,  dear." 

/.  "  You  should  n't  have  come  without  asking.  Where 
are  all  your  fine  promises  ?  What  shall  I  do  with  you  ? 
Do  you  know  there  is  n't  a  hotel  within  four  miles  ?  " 

He.    "That  is  nothing;  it  was  four  hundred  miles 

that  I  could  n't  endure.     But  give  me  a  less  grudging 

welcome  than  this,  though  I  am  like  a  starving  dog 

that  will  snatch  any  morsel  thrown  to  him  !    It  is  really 

[171] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

autumn,  Penelope,  or  it  will  be  in  a  few  days.  Say 
you  are  a  little  glad  to  see  nie." 

The  sight  of  him  so  near,  after  my  weeks  of  loneli- 
ness, gave  me  a  feeling  so  sudden,  so  sweet,  and  so 
vivid  that  it  seemed  to  smite  me  first  on  the  eyes,  and 
then  in  the  heart ;  and  at  the  first  note  of  his  convincing 
voice  Doubt  picked  up  her  trailing  skirts  and  fled  for- 
ever. 

I.  "  Yes,  if  you  must  know  it,  I  am  glad  to  see  you ; 
so  glad,  indeed,  that  nothing  in  the  world  seems  to 
matter  so  long  as  you  are  here." 

He  (striding  a  little  nearer,  and  looking  about  invol- 
untarily for  a  ladder).  "Penelope,  do  you  know  the 
penalty  of  saying  such  sweet  things  to  me  ?  " 

/.  "Perhaps  it  is  because  I  know  the  penalty  that 
I  'in  committing  the  offense.  Besides,  I  feel  safe  in 
saying  anything  in  this  second-story  window." 

He.  "  Don't  pride  yourself  on  your  safety  unless  you 
wish  to  see  me  transformed  into  a  nineteenth-century 
Romeo,  to  the  detriment  of  Mrs.  Bobby's  creepers.  I 
can  look  at  you  forever,  dear,  in  your  pink  gown  and 
your  purple  frame,  unless  I  can  do  better.  Won't  you 
come  down  ?  " 

I.    "I  like  it  very  much  up  here." 

He.  "  You  would  like  it  very  much  down  here,  after 
a  little.  So  you  did  n't  '  paint  me  out,'  after  all  ?  " 

/.  "  No ;  on  the  contrary,  I  painted  you  in,  to  every 
[172] 


Won't  you  come  down? 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

twig  and  flower,  every  hill  and  meadow,  every  sunrise 
and  every  sunset." 

He.  "  You  must  come  down  !  The  distance  between 
Belvern  and  Aix  when  I  was  not  sure  that  you  loved 
me  was  nothing  compared  to  having  you  in  a  second 
story  when  I  know  that  you  do.  Come  down,  Pen ! 
Pretty  Pen ! " 

/.  "Suppose  we  compromise.  My  sitting-room  is 
just  below ;  will  you  walk  in  and  look  at  my  sketches 
until  I  come  ?  You  need  n't  ring;  the  bell  is  over- 
grown with  honeysuckle  and  there  is  no  one  to  answer 
it;  it  might  almost  be  an  American  hotel,  but  it  is  — 
Arcadia!" 

He.  "  It  is  Paradise ;  and  alas !  here  comes  the  ser- 
pent ! " 

/.  "  It  is  n't  a  serpent ;  it  is  the  kindest  landlady  in 
England.  —  Mrs.  Bobby,  this  gentleman  is  a  dear  friend 
of  mine  from  America.  Mr.  Beresford,  this  is  Mrs. 
Bobby,  the  most  comfortable  hostess  in  the  world,  and 
the  owner  of  the  cottage,  the  canaries,  the  tea-tables, 
and  the  baby.  —  The  reason  Mr.  Beresford  was  so 
thirsty,  Mrs.  Bobby,  was  that  he  has  walked  here  from 
Great  Belvern,  so  we  must  give  him  some  supper  before 
he  returns." 

Mrs.  B.  "  Certainly,  miss,  he  shall  have  the  best  in 
the  'ouse,  you  can  depend  upon  that." 

He.  "  Don't  let  me  interfere  with  your  usual  arrange- 
[174] 


ET    EGO    IN    ARCADIA    VIXIT 

ments.     I  am  not  hungry  —  for  food ;  I  shall  do  very 
well  until  I  get  back  to  the  hotel." 

/.  "  Indeed  you  will  not,  sir !  Billy  shall  pull  some 
tomatoes  and  lettuce,  Tommy  shall  milk  the  cow,  and 
Mrs.  Bobby  shall  make  you  a  savory  omelet  that  Del- 
monico  might  envy.  Hark !  Is  that  our  fowl  cack- 
ling ?  It  is,  —  at  half  past  six  !  She  heard  me  men- 
tion omelet,  and  she  must  be  calling,  'Now  I  lay  me 
down  to  sleep.' " 

But  all  that  is  many  days  ago,  and  there  are  no  more 
experiences  to  relate  at  present.  We  are  making  his- 
tory very  fast,  Willie  Beresford  and  I,  but  much  of  it 
is  sacred  history,  and  so  I  cannot  chronicle  it  for  any 
one's  amusement. 

Mrs.  Beresford  is  here,  or  at  least  she  is  in  Great 
Belvern,  a  few  miles  distant.  I  am  not  painting,  these 
latter  days.  I  have  turned  the  artist  side  of  my  nature 
to  the  wall  just  for  a  bit,  and  the  woman  side  is  having 
full  play.  I  do  not  know  what  the  world  will  think 
about  it,  if  it  stops  to  think  at  all,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  were 
"  right  side  out "  for  the  first  time  in  my  life ;  and  when 
I  take  up  my  brushes  again,  I  shall  have  a  new  world 
within  from  which  to  paint, — yes,  and  a  new  world 
without. 

Good-by,  dear  Belvern !  Autumn  and  winter  may 
come  into  my  life,  but  whenever  I  think  of  you  it  will 
[175] 


PENELOPE'S  EXPERIENCES 

be  summer-time  in  my  heart.  I  shall  hear  the  tinkle 
of  the  belled  sheep  on  your  hillsides ;  inhale  the  fra- 
grance of  the  flowering  vine  that  climbed  in  at  my  cot- 
tage window;  re-live  in  memory  the  days  when  Love 
and  I  first  walked  together,  hand  in  hand.  Dear  days 
of  happy  idleness  ;  of  dreaming  dreams  and  seeing  vi- 
sions ;  of  morning  walks  over  the  hills  ;  of  "  bread  and 
cheese  and  kisses  "  at  noon,  with  kind  Mrs.  Bobby  hov- 
ering like  a  plump  guardian  angel  over  the  simple  feast ; 
afternoon  tea  under  the  friendly  shade  of  the  yew-tree, 
and  parting  at  the  wicket  gate.  I  can  see  him  pass  the 
clock  tower,  the  little  green-grocer  shop,  the  old  stocks, 
the  green  pump ;  then  he  is  at  the  turn  of  the  road 
where  the  stone  wall  and  the  hawthorn  hedge  will  pre- 
sently hide  him  from  my  view.  I  fly  up  to  my  window, 
push  back  the  vines,  catch  his  last  wave  of  the  hand. 
I  would  call  him  back  if  I  dared ;  but  it  would  be  no 
easier  to  let  him  go  the  second  time,  and  there  is  always 
to-morrow.  Thank  God  for  to-morrow  !  And  if  there 
should  be  no  to-morrow  ?  Then  thank  God  for  to-day ! 
And  so  good-by  again,  dear  Belvern  !  It  was  in  the  lap 
of  your  lovely  hills  that  Penelope  first  knew  das  irdische 
Gluck  ;  that  she  first  loved,  first  lived ;  forgot  how  to 
be  artist,  in  remembering  how  to  be  woman. 


T176] 


EUctrotyped  and  printed  by  H.  O.  Houghion  &>  Co- 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


»ser 


